


Bird's Eye View

by Cy_kun



Category: Batman (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, But not in the way you're thinking of, Crack, Eventual sex maybe, Fluff, I'd say it belongs in the garbage but it's already there, M/M, No one is straight anymore, Ratings will be changed accordingly, Sex Toys, Teenager!Damian, There's deaging now, This is honestly trash, This is supposed to be stupid but real emotion keeps sneaking its way in, Tim is a huge nerd who wants none of this, Time Shenanigans, because at this point there's not a single cracky trope I'm not willing to toss into this dumpster, chapters of varying length, reluctant witness!Tim, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 73,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cy_kun/pseuds/Cy_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was probably a time when Tim's life made sense. Probably. Maybe. But even if such a time ever did exist, it is well and truly gone now. Experience the puzzling relationship of Jason Todd and Damian Wayne the way it was originally meant to be; through the eyes of a confused and reluctant Tim Drake. Oh and maybe he'll find some love too. Because if anyone deserves it, it's our Timbo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Wouldn't Have Happened in the Cave, or; Why Tim Has His Own Place

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, this garbage, lol. I have no idea where this would fall in actual canon, so it'll probably end up being an accidental mix of pre and new 52, but for costumes and looks and stuff think pre. I have no idea what would constitute "finished", so even though the first two chapters are very sequential it might quickly devolve into a series of drabbles/one-shots with no real overarching "plot" aside from poor Tim being subjected to Jason and Damian's sickeningly sweet (for them, anyway) relationship. Expect nothing but crack and fluff. I'm also literally writing this in between working on the novel I should be spending my free time on, so don't expect anything super polished or expertly edited or anything even remotely approaching regular updates. I'm basically writing, glancing over, and posting. Also, Tim will get with Colin at some point, because I've never seen that ship before and since Dami is stealing Tim's Twu Wuv it's only fair that Tim get his in return b^_^d

It wasn't like Tim was unused to walking in on awkward conversations—and even more awkward _..._ encounters _thank you Dick—_ when he was in the manor. It was actually one of the main reasons he'd moved out, along with needing a place where his various vintage collectables could be displayed without the threat of cat attack or Damian sabotage—“ _You're not supposed to take them out of the box, Damian!” “-Tt- Nonsense, they look much better on display this way. You can even remove their limbs to simulate battle wounds"—_ and his desire to have the occasional night off—“ _Bruce, I'm kind of busy tonight, can't someone else look for Croc in the sewers? It's not like he's actually hurting anyone this time.” “You're not busy. You've been refreshing your Tumblr page for the past two hours, suit up.” “Wait you're monitoring my computer? Bruce!”_

But this? This was something totally new.

“You're dating _who_?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms and just _staring_ at Jason.

Tim's eyes widened.

Because this was about _Jason_ and _dating_.

Tim's gossip instincts, reluctantly acquired and honed over hundreds of late night conversations with Steph, Dick, Bart and, surprisingly, Cass, stood at rigid attention. He barely even noticed Damian was in the room too because this was _Jason and dating_ and _Jason didn't date_ and _who could possibly stand being around him long enough_ to not just like him enough to ask him out but _actually date him_. And who could it possibly be for Bruce to so obviously disapprove? Was it Talia? Roy? Tim barely held back a gasp. Was it _Selina_?

“Damian.”

Time stopped. And so did Tim. Just...stopped. If he were to go back later on and look at the security footage, he was sure it would show that he'd actually _ceased to exist_ for four to seven seconds. The exact same amount of time he was absolutely sure Bruce was legally and physically turned into a stone statue, and coincidentally also the exact same amount of time it took for Jason to grab Damian around the shoulders and haul him into an aggressive cuddle. Damian's scowl could have melted _durasteel_ , but even though he was currently a non-existent, non-corporeal being, Tim didn't miss the way the demon-spawn actually _leaned into Jason_.

_I'd really like to wake up now. This nightmare is already gonna send me into therapy and I do_ not _want to get to the part that actually makes me wake up screaming._

Of course, that was when Tim decided to pop back into existence. And because a fully formed Tim also possessed all those inconvenient detective skills, he knew he wasn't actually having a nightmare.

_No one could come up with this without already being a serial killer. No one._

That was also the moment Bruce decided to go from statue to...well. Not exactly _human._ More like, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars, go directly to _Batman_.

The shadows around Bruce danced with unholy glee, covering his shoulders like the cape that couldn't possibly be down in the cave where it belonged because, look, it was right there along with the cowl and the look in his eyes that said “I am the night. You will fear me” with a healthy added dose of “I will destroy you on a cellular level.”

_Why didn't I just drive straight into the cave? Nothing like this ever happens in the cave._

“Jason.” Bruce's voice was full Batman now, not that Tim was in any way surprised, or disapproving. Only Batman could save the world from this...this—

Jason dropped a quick kiss on Damian's head, prompting a halfhearted squirm and— _by the unholy tentacles of Cthulhu—_ an actual _blush._

_This_.

“You can't be serious.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You really think I'd come clean if I wasn't serious?”

Bruce loomed over the both of them. Which, even considering the apocalypse happening right in front of him, was pretty impressive since he was still sitting behind his desk.

“He's _fifteen_.”

Jason scoffed. “Really Bruce? That's what you're going with? That it's _against the law_?”

Which was a good point, Tim thought, considering...well, everything, but mostly the fact that this was Jason and he only ever cared about the law when someone _else_ was breaking it. Mostly because that gave him an excuse to beat the hell out of him, her, it, or them.

“Father—”

“He's not old enough to—”

This time, Jason outright laughed. “To what? Date? Drink? Put on a costume and fight crime?”

Again, not a terrible point.

“Jason, silence. I will handle this. Father you—”

_He called him Jason._

This time, Tim did squeak. Thankfully, everyone seemed to preoccupied to notice him.

It would only be much, _much_ later that he'd realized now would have been the perfect time to slip out and _bleach his brain_.

“He's not old enough to date _you_. You're too old for him. You're...since when do you even date?”

Tim nodded vigorously.

“That question is so weird with the Batman voice,” Jason said.

Tim's nodding increased.

“It's also valid.” Bruce's eyes narrowed. “Since you've come back you've shown little interest in perusing anything but antagonistic relationships with anyone who isn't Roy Harper, let alone members of this family. Why now?”

“Because I want to?”

“This is not a game.”

Jason glared. “You know what? The kid was right. You can't handle this. Even when I try to do the right thing instead of keeping it a secret like we've been doing for—”

“Is this part of some plot to get back at me?”

Despite the roaring fire in the cavernous fireplace, the air in the room suddenly took on an arctic crispness. And while he was grateful Bruce had interrupted Jason before he could find out how long _this_ had been going on— _oh god, have I been in the manor when they...—_ he knew right away that Bruce had made a huge mistake. Over the years Jason had...well, not exactly _mellowed_ per se, but he had made a real effort to be more than a big ball of rage and resentment. It was obvious that, even though he would never have the relationship with Bruce that he'd had when they were Batman and Robin, he'd tried to put their past behind him as much as possible. Even _Tim_ noticed, and he made a point to ignore and avoid Jason as much as he possibly could ever since the Month of the Unfortunate Crush, which had manifested itself in blushes and an uncontrollable stutter whenever Jason was _Jason,_ or at least not wearing that stupid helmet.

But that was beside the point.

The point was, Jason had been trying, and whether Bruce was the only one who didn't see it, or if he was just reacting on outdated instinct because his (somewhat lapsed) homicidal adopted son was dating his (mostly recovered) assassin biological son, Jason wasn't nearly well adjusted enough to give Bruce anything that even looked like the benefit of the doubt.

“Fuck. You.” It seemed like the only thing holding Jason back from lunging at Bruce was Damian's tight grip on what had to be one of the main nerves in his arm. “Is it really so fucking hard to believe that I can actually love someone?”

Tim choked on _nothing_.

Bruce's silence filled the room.

“Fine,” Jason said, his voice deadly calm. “I'm out of here.”

He pulled his arm out of Damian's grip and stalked towards the door. As in, the only door in or out of the room. As in, the one Tim had never moved from in front of.

Jason glared and snarled, “Move, replacement.”

Tim scurried out of the way. Even if he could think of anything to say—and he might as well take up self-immolation as a hobby if he was actually thinking about getting in the middle of this—he knew he was the last person Jason would want to hear it from.

“Jason, stop!” Damian snapped. His entire body was tense and angry, but his eyes... His eyes were filled with the kind of worry Tim had honestly thought the demon-spawn was incapable of.

_He really cares about Jason..._

Jason did stop, but when he turned around, he only had eyes for Bruce. “You know, you better think really hard about what you say to him after I leave. Whether you think I'm faking it or not, you should at least know your son well enough by now to be able to tell how _he_ feels. He's not the kid starving for your attention that he used to be. Say the wrong thing, and Dickie won't be the only Robin you drove away.”

He stared at Bruce for a short eternity, and only then did his eyes fall on Damian.

Tim was, by nature, observant. Sometimes he hated it, especially when it made him the keeper of secrets he'd have been happier never knowing. But even he would have been hard pressed to notice the way the hard, angry lines of Jason's face softened ever so slightly when he looked at Damian if he hadn't been this close.

_Maybe he's not the only one._

“See you later?”

Damian nodded jerkily, scowling at everything and everyone in the room _except_ Jason, even though Damian never looked away.

And with that, Jason left.

Damian wasted little time.

“Father!” He spun around. “You—”

“I suppose this is the form your long overdue teenage rebellion is taking?”

Damian's froze mid-word, and even Tim gave Bruce a _look._

Because yeah, Jason and Damian being....together was, quite frankly, horrifying. But it wasn't as impossible as it might have seemed before Tim had actually _seen_ it with his own eyes. Jason was Jason and Damian was Damian, and if they somehow made their sharp, abrasive edges fit together?

Well. Not that Tim wanted to be exposed to it, but there were probably worse ways they could be spending their free time.

Especially Jason.

“I have never known you to be so blind.”

Bruce—and he was definitely _Bruce_ now, more exhausted dad than terrifying urban legend—sighed. “Damian—”

“No, you have had your turn to speak, now it is mine.” He stood up straight, and while he was taller now than he had been at ten, it was becoming obvious that he would always be more Talia than Bruce in the height department. Still, he was the demon-spawn, and being threatening had never been one of his problems.

“I will not have you belittle my...relationship, with Jason.” Damian was probably going for disgusted, or at least ambivalent, but to Tim he just seemed in awe of the entire concept of being in a _relationship_. “We are in...we care about each other very much. And if you refuse to see that, then—” _Oh god, he's gonna threaten to run away._ Damian _is going the threaten to_ run away _with his_ boyfriend—“you are no longer fit to be Batman.”

Tim just _stared_. And while part of him really wanted to ask about the logic behind _that—_

Most of him just wanted this whole night to be over.

“You may have Pennyworth deliver the suit to my room, if you cannot bring yourself to surrender it with grace.”

Tim almost laughed, because, yeah, there was no way The Suit was ever going to fit Damian. Hell, Jason was probably the only one of them who could fit into it and be able to handle the weight without any alterations—and Tim really hoped that wasn't some kind of cosmic symbolism. But he didn't, because, for whatever reason, Damian was completely serious. Bruce seemed to realize it too, because for just a moment, the shadows rebelled and he seemed to age twenty years right before Tim's eyes. Not for the first time, Tim wondered just what kind of toll it took to be so many different things. Batman, Mr Wayne, Brucie, Bruce, Dad. He'd had enough trouble with his own identity juggling, and he'd never had so many at once.

But like he said, it only lasted for a moment. Bruce leaned forward, his arms resting on the desk, and the shadows retreated leaving behind only Batman.

“Be dressed and in the cave by midnight, Robin.”

And didn't it just say so much about this family that Bruce retreating into the Bat and burying all human emotion seemed to be exactly the response Damian was looking for.

“Of course.”

He nodded once, then turned on his heel. He paused, seeming to notice Tim for the first time, and flushed slightly before sticking his chin up and _sauntering_ out of the room. Tim blinked.

_Who the hell taught him to do that?_

“You know,” Bruce said, startling Tim because he's Batman and seems to instinctively know exactly when people aren't expecting him to say anything. “I never expected it to be Jason. I'd always thought it would be Dick. Or you.”

It took Tim less than a heartbeat to realize what Bruce meant.

It took less than that for him to _flee_.

Some conversations just really needed to be avoided all together.

 


	2. Faster Than a Speeding Bullet

According to Dick, news travels fast in a circus. And if Dick was an example of just how fast gossip could spread, Tim didn't doubt it for a second.

“Oh my god, _did you hear_?”

Tim shrieked—in a dignified, manly way, of course—as Dick burst into his room at the manor.

Tim wasn't staying overnight, of course. He had his own apartment and he was a _grown man dammit, thank you very much,_ and it had absolutely nothing to do with the Conversation (capital C very much needed) he'd unfortunately been present for an hour ago (had it really only been an hour?). Nothing at all. He just liked his apartment, even if the internet was faster in his old room, which made no sense at all because Babs set them both up and only Alfred was sadistic enough to purposely sabotage his home internet in an effort to force him into spending more nights back in his old room.

Although, Alfred _did_ stop by shortly after he'd moved in. He'd _claimed_ it was to deliver that delicious housewarming cake, but sometimes Tim wondered...

And then he realized what Dick said, and suddenly he didn't care about how quickly he could torrent the new Star Wars movie.

“You already know?”

Even for Dick, that was fast. Especially since Tim could have sworn he went out early to check on Arkham before their actual patrol.

And sure enough, now that he bothered to look, Dick was in his Nightwing uniform, sans domino, which let Tim get a good look at his wide-eyed, oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-this expression.

“You know too?” Dick deflated slightly. Normally, Tim would laugh, but suddenly he was too grateful to actually have someone outside the situation to _talk_ to about _This_.

Again, capital T totally necessary.

“How did this even happen?” Tim asked. Regardless of who got there first, Dick always, _always_ knew more than Tim. It was his undeclared superpower, and more than once he'd threatened to tell Bruce he was secretly a meta if Dick didn't _shut up now and leave him alone he's trying to deconstruct this abysmal fan casting_.

Which actually worked more often than not.

Dick perked up, as was his wont. “I dunno but, my best guess? Magic.”

Tim blinked. “Magic? Isn't that a little...” _Tacky? Sickly-sweet? Mushy?_ “Unrealistic?”

“Really Tim? Really? How many times have one of us been de-aged or turned into a cute, cuddly animal?”

“...okay, define cute and cuddly, because raccoons can go either way and—”

“Stop being so literal!”

Tim raised an eyebrow because, well. Dick conceded the point with an eye roll.

“Okay, yeah, but still. Magic is kind of a constant thing in our line of work.”

“ _Occasionally_ a constant thing. We get more aliens than wizards—” He shook his head. “Stop distracting me. No. It's not magic. It can't be.”

“But—”

“No, you weren't there. You didn't see the way they looked. It...it wasn't magic.”

_At least not the literal kind, because the metaphorical, liter_ ary _kind? Totally on the table, sadly._

Dick's mouth dropped open. “ _You were there when it happened?_ ”

“Yes. Well. No. I mean, I was there tonight but I'm pretty sure it happened way before then...”

But Dick was already shaking his head. “No. Definitely not. I checked in on both of them _yesterday_ and they were both perfectly normal. This had to have happened tonight.”

Tim blinked.

“ _What?_ ”

Because there was no way. It was...it had to be an established relationship. Not even Damian at his most efficient could condense weeks or months of feelings and drama to the point where Jason was willing to _come out to Bruce_ into one day. Tim knew this because _he_ was the most efficient member of their family— _thank you very much slight OCD and utter lack of social life—_ and even he would need a few days of rush-dating to get a relationship to that point. Not that he'd want to. If his experience with Steph taught him anything, it was that there was no such thing as “too slow” when it came to relationships.

Also, that he should stop dating people who were much better off as best friends. Hence why his _thing_ for Jason was nowhere near as easy to squash as his _thing_ for for Kon had been.

“Yeah, tonight at the latest anyway. The doctors at Arkham said—”

“Wait, _what!?_ ” Tim gaped. “Bruce sent him to _Arkham_?”

Dick cocked his head. “Well, yeah. I mean, I guess technically the courts did, but Bruce caught them. I mean, that's how this has kinda always worked, you know?”

“The _courts?_ ” _Oh my god, Bruce had Jason arrested._ “How? What? _Why?_ He can't just—” Tim paled. “Oh my god, does Damian know? Because I'm pretty sure he's on his way there to break him out if he does and, oh god, why would Bruce _do_ that. Does he _want_ to fight Damian for the cowl, not that I actually understand that part but—”

“Woah, wait, what are you talking about?”

Tim stared incredulously. “Um, the same thing we've _been_ talking about? Jason and Damian dating—and that's the first time I said it out loud, wow, this is really a thing that's happening.”

“Hold on, wait, wh—Jason and Damian are _what?_ ” Dick's voice broke in ways that even puberty-Tim, the disaster that he sometimes was, had never managed to reach. Tim took a moment to file that away to mock Dick mercilessly for later on.

“Dating. You know...the thing we were...” Tim blinked. “That _is_ what you burst in here to tell me, right?”

“No! I was talking about Two-Face and Joker swapping bodies.”

Tim blinked again.

“...what.”

Dick nodded. “Yeah, it happened earlier tonight. Apparently some idiot decided starting up group therapy again would be a good idea, but before anyone could get a kill in Two-Face suddenly started cackling and dropping horrible one liners and Joker flipped out and started shrieking about his missing coin and Babs promised to send us the security footage and—” He shook his head. “Never mind. What the hell is going on with Jay and Dami? You don't actually mean, like, _dating_ dating, do you?”

Tim nodded slowly. “They came out to Bruce in front of me. It was awful. But about Two-Face—”

And that was as far as he got. Dick pulled his domino out from...somewhere—seriously, the suit was skin tight and he didn't have a utility belt, where did he keep _anything—_ and shot out of Tim's room at a dead run, screaming Jason's name and more than a few threats of genital mutilation if he “even thinks about defiling Little D before the wedding, and this better not have been why you borrowed my riding crop last month or _not even Batman will be able to find the body_ ” and Tim kind of tuned out there, because, really, body swapping?

“But,” he asked the empty room, because that was just something Tim did, “did Harvey _and_ Two-Face make it into the Joker's body, or is Joker sharing a body with one of them?”

He wondered how long it would be before Babs sent over that security footage.


	3. It's The Little Things That Make Life Bearable, or; Why Tim Sometimes Hits Girls, and Why Sometimes He Doesn't Even Need To

“Ow!” Tim rubbed his shoulder. “What the heck, Steph? That hurt.”

Steph raised an eyebrow, or at least Tim was 92% sure she did because while he was, to quote Dick, “scarily observant”, even he couldn't be completely sure what kind of expression someone was making behind a cowl.

“Really Tim? You're Red Robin, _in_ the Red Robin suit even, and you're crying about being hit by a girl?”

“Since you're Batgirl, and you regularly beat up guys twice your size, I don't think my masculinity is at risk if I admit your punches hurt.”

“Yeah, but you could at least hit me back.”

“I don't _want_ to hit you back.”

Steph crossed her arms. “I thought I trained that wussy 'I don't wanna hit a girl' stuff out of you back when we were dating?”

Tim closed his eyes and sighed because this was just his life now. “And now for this weeks episode of 'Things Which Sound Horrible When Said Out of Costume'...”

Steph snorted.

“And me not wanting to hit you has nothing to do with your gender and everything to do with the fact that I'm tired and it's been raining on and off all night and this building B has me watching is the most boring building in Gotham because there isn't a single mob boss or costumed nut job or even a drug deal going down, even though I saw no less than _three_ different crews from _three_ different gangs go inside in the last hour. And do you know what they're doing there? They _live there,_ Steph. It's just an apartment building. One of them was feeding a _baby_ and singing lullabies. _For over an hour._ There is no crime here. I am Red Robin and there is _no crime for me to fight_. I could be sleeping. Or hacking into Joss Whedon's twitter and announcing that Firefly got picked up for another season and watching the world set itself on fire when he has to retract because _that's just the kind of mood I'm in_.” Tim took several deep breaths. “Besides, it was _Babs_ who trained that out of me.” He pitched his voice down slightly to imitate Babs' low, no nonsense voice. “'Chivalry will get you killed out there. Anyone, man or woman, who commits crime in this city should be smart enough to know the consequences. Those consequences being getting bitch slapped by Batman and Robin. Never hesitate with the bitch slapping, Tim, or you might find yourself stabbed through the spleen one day'.”

Steph giggled. “She did _not_.”

“Every word. Even the spleen bit. You should have _seen_ the look she gave me. 'Leave it to you to actually follow my advice and _still_ lose your spleen'.”

“Oh god, that's classic.” Steph shook her head. “All I got was the 'don't get yourself killed' speech.”

“Well, at least you _technically_ listened.”

“Still got a look, though.”

Tim hummed. “So, why did you hit me anyway?”

“Oh, right. Because I'm mad at you, you idiot!” She punched him again.

“Ow! What—”

“When were you going to tell me about Jason and Damian?”

Tim paled. He'd actually been trying very hard to forget about that, _thank you ever so much Steph_.

“I had to find out from Dick, Tim. _Dick_. Do you know how long it takes him to get to the freaking _point_?”

Tim knew very well.

“And then when he _finally_ stopped going on about forgetting Blüdhaven because 'Nightwing is now the protector of Damian's virginity'—”

_Oh god._

“—he tells me that you knew for _days_ and _never told me_. This is prime gossip, Tim. I taught you better than that.”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile effort to ward off the Steph related headache he could feel forming. “One, _taught against my will_. Two, I've been trying to pretend this... _this_ isn't even a thing because _I was right there when they told Bruce and that's a trauma I will never get over._ Three, if you ever use the words 'Damian' and 'virginity' in the same _paragraph_ again, I will...I'll...

“Scrunch your adorable face up and wave your little fists at me?”

Tim glared because they were the _same age_ and she was only a _little bit taller_ and it wasn't his fault that he'd kept his teenage figure while she bulked up a bit and got an _eight pack_. “I'll tell Alfred you were the one who left the fridge open overnight and _ruined his carefully prepared Thanksgiving dinner_.”

Steph gasped. “You promised you'd take that to your grave!”

“Death means nothing in this family. I'll do what I want.”

“Fine!” Steph threw her hands up in the air before settling into a very impressive sulk. “You suck.”

“I'm going to agree with you, because I know what you're actually saying and it's one hundred percent true. But if you turn my agreement into any kind of sex joke, the same threat applies.”

“You can't keep doing that!”

Tim raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms and _cocked his hip_. “Did you miss the part where I said I'll do what I want?”

Steph screamed, and Tim felt a calm settling over him that he hadn't felt since what he was now referring to as J-D-day. Maybe he could deal with this after all. As long as Steph was the only member of the family he talked to until it was finally _his_ turn to die for a few years.


	4. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home From the Gang War, or; Why Tim Prefers to Work Alone

Tonight was the first night since the Conversation that Jason had been formally invited back to patrol with them, and Tim was torn between _oh thank god Bruce the tension between you and Damian has been unbearable_ and _oh dear god Bruce what are you thinking I've been so good at avoiding being around them together you're ruining my streak_.

“As you all know, the Joker, Freeze, _and_ Two-Face have all escaped from Arkham recently. None of them have done anything major so far, and that worries me. So until further notice, you will be patrolling in teams of two. Since Blackbat has returned home for a few days, she's meeting Batgirl at her apartment and will be paired with her. Which leaves the four of you.”

Tim narrowed his eyes and looked around the cave. There was...no way he was going to be paired with Nightwing, was there?

“Nightwing.”

Dick perked up. “Yeah boss?”

“Tonight you're with Red Hood.”

“Got it, B.” He grinned at Jason and _cracked his knuckles_ and _oh my god is Bruce smirking what even the heck?_

“Robin, you're with Red—”

“Father!”

“—Robin and there will be _no arguments_.”

Bruce glared at all of them, taking the time to give an extra special glare to Jason and _he's doing this as punishment isn't he?_

Not for Jason, oh no. Because Jason was an expert at handling Dick— _okay, really have to start phrasing that better—_ and Tim gave it about an hour of Dick's “what have you done to my poor Little D” routine before he punched him out, tied him up with the torn remnants of his own costume, and went off on his own to blow up the docks again. No, Bruce wasn't doing this to punish Jason, he was doing it to punish _Tim_. Because everyone always said Tim was the Bat who was most like Batman and Bruce had _never corrected anyone_ even when they said it right in front of him and he just knew Bruce was blaming him for not figuring out this whole dating thing and _putting a stop to it before he ever had to deal with it_.

“-tt- Are you coming, Drake? Or is the wall so fascinating that you have to stare at it for the rest of the night?”

Time blinked and, yeah, everyone else had left at some point. Which was awful because he didn't even get to glare at Bruce or protest or _tear off his costume and quit—_

“Yeah, let's go.”

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, it was like the entire world was conspiring against Tim.

“How does a gang war break out in the middle of a sex shop?” he muttered to himself as he ducked yet another wild swing from yet _another_ member of the East Coventry Gang who was wielding something that had _definitely_ not started out its shelf life as something intended to be used as a weapon.

“And who the heck forgets to bring actual _weapons_ to a gang war?”

He disarmed the thug, very quickly dropping the glass...thing he wasn't going to look too closely at, before turning to face his next opponent. They seemed to be thinning out a bit, so after taking down two more gang members he found himself with a little breathing room and looked around for Robin.

And promptly wished he hadn't, because he did _not_ need the mental image of Damian fending off two different thugs while dual-wielding a spreader bar and a whip and he _never_ wanted to know where Damian learned to use a whip like that.

Thankfully, that was when one of the thugs he'd disarmed decided to wake up and tackle him into an entire shelf of dildos, thereby distracting him and _proving that maybe there was a god and he really loved Tim_ because a distraction was _exactly_ what he needed right then.

It took another half an hour, but they finally had all of the gang members disarmed and tied up in some way. If there was one good thing about fights in a sex shop, it was that there were no shortage of ways to restrain people when they ran out of zip-ties. After handing the keys to the various handcuffs—and some instructions on how to remove a few of the more inventive restraints—to the giggling GCPD officers who had shown up to collect the thugs, Tim and Damian made their way to a nearby roof and collapsed.

Or, Tim collapsed. Damian started to pace and _how does he even have energy after all that_?

Tim watched him, slightly confused as to why Damian looked three seconds away from punching a wall.

Suddenly, he spun around, snarling at Tim. “ _What?”_

Tim blinked. “What?”

“You have been staring at me all night, Drake. If you have something to say to me then just _say it_.”

Tim almost laughed. Because talking to Damian? Yeah, so not on his list or priorities after recent events.

“I don't.”

“Do not lie to me!”

“Trust me Damian, having a conversation with you is the _last_ thing I want to do right now.”

Damian's eyes narrowed behind his domino. “I knew it. You agree with father!”

_Oh please no._

“No, Damian—I don't have any opinion on...anything you might be talking about. Because even if you're not talking about the thing I think you're talking about that I do _not_ ever want to talk about, I _still_ don't want to talk about it because I just spent the last hour being hit with things that were _vibrating_ and I would really like to not have to deal with anything else for the next _fifty years_.”

Damian, of course, ignored him completely.

“ _Why_ is it so hard for you and father to believe that Jason could be feeling genuine emotion for me? Is it because you think he is incapable? Because if he isn't _hugging_ you and _smiling_ all the time like _Grayson_ then he cannot possibly be _feeling_ anything? Or is it because of me? Do you both find the idea of someone caring for _me_ to be impossible?”

He stalked over to Tim and hauled him up by his bandoliers— _when did the demon-spawn get that strong holy crap—_ and shoved his face into Tim's.

“ _Am I truly so unlovable?_ ” he snarled

Later, Tim would be slightly ashamed that his first thought was _oh my god insecure teenage Damian is an actual thing I need to tell Steph the second I get home_.

“Um.” Tim swallowed. “I don't think that's what Bruce—”

Damian spat out a disgusted scoff and let Tim go. “Of course you don't. I have no idea why I expected you to _think_.”

Tim bit back a retort, partly because he was being given an out from this conversation—

But also because instead of going back to pacing or starting to recite his list of “Drake's Greatest Faults” Damian walked into the nearest set of shadows and pulled his cape tightly around him, almost like...

Almost like a kid huddling under a security blanket.

So instead Tim bit his lip, and stared, and started to wonder just how much of the Damian he was seeing right now was the Damian Jason got to see. Because he was sure he'd never seen Damian this...vulnerable, before. Maybe Dick had, back when everyone but Tim had thought Bruce was dead, back when Dick was the only person Damian would even consider opening up to. But Tim hadn't, and if Damian was so upset that he would lose control of himself in front of _Tim_ , then...

Well, honestly, it probably meant his relationship with Jason was unhealthy and codependent. Still. It could also mean that having his dad disapprove of his boyfriend was hurting him a lot more than Tim would have expected.

But Tim was leaning more towards codependent.

Still...

“Damian?”

Silence.

Then, “What?”

Tim paused, wondering briefly if he was _really_ going to get in the middle of this—

Damian shivered, and even though it was probably because of the cold wind that just kicked up, it still tugged at Tim's heart. He sighed.

“Bruce doesn't think you're unlovable. None of us do. He just doesn't want you to get hurt because he knows how hard it is for Jason to have healthy...relationships, with people. He's worried _because_ he loves you. And because he loves Jason too. He doesn't want to see either one of you getting hurt.”

Damian didn't say anything for a long, tense moment. Then, slowly, he turned around, and while the mask hid some of the more expressive parts of his face, he still glanced up at Tim with something that looked an awful lot like hope.

“You truly think so?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Damian nodded once, but before he turned back around Tim caught the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

_Dammit Bruce, you better not do something to prove me wrong._

Silence once again fell over the rooftop, but before it could get _too_ awkward it was interrupted by an explosion. Tim spun around, seeing flames in the distance, and cocked his head.

_Isn't that where the docks are?_

“ _Oracle,_ ” Batman's voice came over the comm.

“ _I'm on it, Batman._ ” Tim heard the clacking of keys through his earpiece. “ _It seems like someone set off several devices simultaneously at Gotham Harbor. They were all in empty areas so it doesn't look like anyone was hurt, but there's some serious property damage—_ ”

“ _Agh, finally!_ ” Dick's voice cut in. “ _B, Jason got away from me. He knocked me out and tied me up in my own...um. He tied me up. Then ran off towards the docks. I just managed to get loose and—_ ”

_You have got to be kidding me..._

“ _Oracle, where is Red Hood?_ ”

“ _No idea._ ”

“ _Find him._ ”

“ _You know as well as I do I probably won't unless he wants to be found. I keep telling you, you need to put tracers into_ everyone's _suits if you want me to be able to keep track of them—”_

Tim tuned out, suddenly worried because Damian had been suspiciously quiet during this whole thing and if he sneaked off to go find Jason Bruce was going to _kill him_. Him, of course, being _Tim._

He spun around, then squeaked and covered his eyes because Jason was _right there_ and did Damian have tonsillitis and need emergency treatment because that was the only acceptable reason for Jason's tongue to be _all the way down his throat_ and—

“ _Robin, report. Robin. Robin! Red Robin, do you have eyes on Robin? Is he still with you?_ ” Bruce's Batman voice, already so low and gruff it made gravel jealous, somehow got even more...Batman-y. “ _Is_ Red Hood _with him?_ ”

“ _Jason's with Little D? Are their clothes still on? Tim! You gotta keep them from getting to penetration! I'll be there as soon as I can! Save Little D's virginity!_ ”

“ _They're doing it?! Tim you better be recording this or so help me god—_ ”

“ _Batgirl, get off the line and make sure nobody was hurt in the explosion._ ”

“ _But—_ ”

“ _Red Robin, where is—_ ”

“ _Virginity is virginity, don't let either of them put anything in their mouths—_ ”

“ _Record everything!_ ”

Tim was officially done.

He pulled off his cowl long enough to yank out his earpiece and grind it to _dust_ with his heel. When it was well and truly destroyed, he jumped off the building to get away from the suspiciously wet noises coming from a particular group of shadows.

It took him longer than he'd care to admit to decide whether or not he should actually shoot off a line.


	5. Sleeping With the Fishes, Assuming Any Actually Live in Gotham River.

It went without saying that Tim was a pretty light sleeper. And since he was a light sleeper, he could probably fill out a few pages of a spreadsheet program with all the different noises he'd been woken up by, along with the time of night—or day, _let's be honest_ —and a pretty decent estimate of how far away whatever was making the noise actually was.

This, however, was the first time since he was a kid that Tim had ever been woken up by a noise he _couldn't_ identify.

“OoooooohhhhoOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Tim shivered and pulled his blankets up to his chin.

Because he was almost positive it wasn't a ghost. Tim didn't believe in ghosts. Never had. Tim was a creature of logic— _shut up everyone but Cass who is my favorite because she is nice—_ and ghosts were _illogical_. Except...

Except.

See, the thing was, in a world where aliens routinely tried to conquer Earth, wizards and witches liked to stop off from alternate dimensions, demons were an actual _thing,_ and the multi-verse had been crushed together so many times it physically _hurt_ to think about, ghosts weren't actually all _that_ far fetched.

And if any place in the world was going to be haunted, it was Wayne Manor.

“AhhhhhHHHHHHHHH!”

If Tim cursed, now would be the time he'd curse himself for not ignoring Dick when he said he had something important to show him back at the manor after patrol (spoilers: _he didn't._ It was a compilation video of various animals wearing the Nightwing costume. The same one Dick had shown him _four times my god Dick get a new hobby)_ and just going _home_ before the call of a bed not halfway across the city played its siren song to Tim's utterly exhausted body.

Because there were no ghosts in Tim's apartment. And if there were, he was pretty sure one of the fifteen different security systems he'd wired into it actually did something about ghosts. But no, he was stuck in the manor, in his old room, with nobody in the same wing but Damian because Dick was _never_ too tired to drive back to Blüdhaven and Jason was still banned from spending the night within two miles of Damian and a bed and _Damian would not help him fight a ghost_.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! AhHHHHH!”

And now the ghost was slamming something heavy into a wall. Great. Not just a ghost but a _ghost that could move things in the physical world_ and he was never watching Paranormal Activity again so help him god.

The slamming got louder, and that was when Tim realized where it was coming from.

Damian's room.

Tim didn't waste any time. All he could think was _Damian's fighting a ghost and even though I just want to scream I can't let him face that kind of terror alone_ and he was out of his room and running down the hall in his Star Wars pajamas—featuring characters from the original trilogy only, no Jar-Jar on him—towards Damian's. At the last second he stopped himself from bursting in. If he stealthily slipped in instead, maybe he could take the ghost by surprise and—

Using all his Bat-trained stealth skills, he slowly opened the door and crept inside only to see—

“Ah! Ah! Yes! Harder! Fuck! You call this _sex_? Th-this is _pathetic_ ,I'll barely f-feel this in the morning. _Fuck me harder Jason!_ ”

 _Oh my god and the devil and Cthulhu and_ Galactus _Damian and Jason are having sex._

That thought, as _soul scarring_ as it was, was very quickly followed by:

_And Damian's a bottom._

Thankfully the lights were off, so all Tim actually saw before he slammed his eyes shut and shoved his _palms_ into them was a shadowy, vaguely naked-Jason shaped lump thrusting his lower body at an, admittedly, incredibly impressive pace and slamming the bed even _harder_ into the wall.

He was so glad he was totally over The Crush, because he really didn't need the same images showing up in his nightmares _and_ his wet dreams.

As quickly as he could while still being absolutely silent, he slipped out of the room, closed the door, and ran back to his bed.

Not to sleep. No. That was never happening again.

No. He went back to _cry._

 

* * *

 

“So.”

Tim looked up from his laptop because he knew that tone and Steph would just keep saying “so” over and over until he responded. Currently, they were in his apartment. Tim was at his desk working on a very important...thing, for a board meeting the next day, and Steph was laying on his couch reading the Classified's.

Which actually said a lot about which of them was the smarter one.

“What?”

“So I was just wondering,” she said, placing the paper on the coffee table. “Which one of them do you think, you know, gets...” She made a confusing yet incredibly vulgar hand gesture that Tim couldn't even begin to describe beyond _ew never do that again_.

It took him less time than he would have liked to decode it.

“Steph, no, you—” He shuddered. “You said you'd never talk about that around me. I threatened you, remember?”

“Actually, I said I'd never mention Damian and the v-word, but I can't imagine that's even an issue anymore and—are you blushing? Oh my god, _you know, don't you?_ Tell me!”

Tim cringed. “No. No. This is not. _No_.”

“Tellmetellmetellmetellme—”

Tim got up, closed his laptop, got his keys, and threw them at Steph.

“I'm done. Done like a well cooked steak. Forever this time. Here. The apartment is yours. I'm going to go steal a car and drive it into the Gotham river. Tell Damian the company is his now and he can do whatever the heck he wants with it.”

“What? Wait, Tim. Tim! Get back here and tell me! Is it Jason? It's Jason, isn't it? I knew it, it's always the big tough ones that like to take it hard—although Damian has 'power bottom' written all over him... Wait, don't leave! Tell me _I need to know_!—

But Tim was already gone, and when he wanted to disappear, no one could find him.

He wondered how long he could hide out with Cass in Hong Kong before someone thought to look there.


	6. As If Tim Would Ever Hide Anything in an *Air Duct*.

“No, Kon. _No_. You don't even understand. It's. It's _awful_.” Tim gripped his phone so hard it was a miracle it didn't break. Or just good, WayneTech engineering. Considering he, and not god, would get the credit for the latter, he was going to go with that because he could _use something positive in his life_. “The _worst_.”

“ _Dude, it doesn't sound_ that _bad.”_

“No. You—”

“ _I know. I have 'no idea'. But, I mean, you're the one always complaining about how pissy Damian is, right? Maybe this is a good thing, you know? I don't think getting laid has ever put anyone in a_ worse _mood.”_

“First of all. _Never say 'getting laid'_ in relation to Damian. Ever. Second, normally, you might be right. But. If he does ever lighten up, it's not around any of us. In fact, he just gets even _more..._ Damian around anyone who isn't Jason because he thinks we're all trying to keep them apart.”

“ _Are you serious? Dude, this sounds hilarious.”_

“Not when you're living it, Kon. _Not when you're living it._ ”

“ _Are you sure you aren’t exaggerating?”_

“I heard them having sex through the wall. _Through the wall_. Then I _walked in on them._ You wouldn't think I was overreacting if this had ever happened to you.”

“ _Um, you_ do _remember I have superhearing, right? And X-ray vision? You wouldn't believe some of the things Bart and Jamie get up to when they think I'm not in the Tower. Now_ that _shit is_ scarring _.”_

Tim winced, because he was pretty sure Bart had described a few of those things to him in detail before, when he was trying to get Tim to spill what he did with Steph and _is it really so hard to believe he maybe doesn't want to kiss and tell?_ Not like they ever did much more than kissing _anyway_ , but the point still stands.

However.

“It's more traumatic because Bart and Jamie are normal, well adjusted people who, and this is the really important bit, _aren't related to me_.”

“ _Neither are Jason and Damian.”_

“No. You don't get to say that. Family is _more than just blood_ and they are my _brothers_ and I care for them somewhat—”

“ _Oh I can feel the love.”_

“—and I don't want to know what it looks like _when they're having sex_.”

“ _Yeah. Okay. I get that. Sorta. But I don't really wanna see_ any _dudes having sex, so I don't really think I'm your target audience for this conversation because I can't really, you know, properly sympathize or whatever you're looking for.”_

Tim glared in the general direction of Smallville. “You're the worst friend ever.”

“ _Dude, I've been letting you bitch over the phone about your brothers boning each other for the last hour. I'm pretty much the best friend ever. And while we're on the subject, when, exactly, was the last time you called me when you_ didn't _have something to bitch about? Or even ask me about how I'm doing when you're done bitching? Because I'm having a little trouble remembering.”_

“That's completely different. You _fly_ here when you have something to complain about. And I stay up all night eating horrible food that goes right to my hips whenever you do, because even though you've had a superhumanly _perfect_ body since the test tube, and I have to _work_ to keep myself in shape, I know eating three gallons of ice cream and cookie dough helps you feel better and I'm _just that good of a friend_.”

“ _Still, a call would be nice. Just a little 'Hey Kon, I was just thinking about you and your superhumanly perfect body, and I was wondering if you were okay or if you wanted to talk or if maybe you and Cassie were having problems again and wanted to eat three gallons of ice cream and cookie dough with me'. You know, just something simple to show that you care.”_

“Kon—”

“ _I mean, it just seems like I'm always the one doing most of the helping, you know?”_

“Really? I can't even remember the last time you—”

“ _I helped you out with the gay thing.”_

Tim choked. “N— You— You didn't do anything! When I told you I thought I might be more attracted to guys than girls you _walked around in your underwear_ every single time we were alone together.”

“ _You said you were confused, I was just trying to help you out. Because if you're not attracted to_ this, _then you don't like dudes.”_

“I thought you were coming onto me for weeks! I almost _asked you out_.”

“ _Really?”_

“Yes!”

“ _Wow, that would have been hilarious.”_

“It would have been humiliating!”

“ _I mean, like, now, obviously. You know, in hindsight.”_

“...why am I even friends with you?”

“ _Because we're good together and we've shared things that most other people can only dream about. Except bodily fluids. Which you've probably dreamed about.”_

“...this is revenge for something I don't remember doing, isn't it?”

“ _Tim. I'm insulted. Do you really think me so petty?”_

“Y—”

“ _Although, if I_ was _that petty, I_ might _still_ _be a bit pissed that somebody erased all my progress in Final Fantasy 12, and then tried to hide my memory card in the air vents so I wouldn't find out.”_

“For the last time, that was Bart! Do you really think if _I_ hid your memory card you'd _ever_ find it? Do you really? Because now _I'm_ getting insulted.”

“ _Whatever you say, dude. But—”_

And that was when the door to the abandoned warehouse he was hiding in was kicked open. Tim spun around, only to see Red Hood leap inside, roll, and come up guns drawn.

“Jason! What the heck?!”

Red Hood quickly surveyed the warehouse, then holstered his guns when he saw it was empty. As he pulled off his helmet, Tim could still hear Kon's tinny voice coming through his phone.

“ _Did you just say Jason? Is he there? Hey Jason! Did you know Tim likes to watch you guys fu—”_

Tim quickly hung up and turned off his phone.

“Really babybird?” Jason asked, tossing the helmet to the side. “You blew off patrol to come to an old, shitty warehouse and...what the fuck are you even doing here?”

Tim slid the phone into one of the pouches on his utility belt.

“Searching for crime,” he answered calmly. “Criminals often hide in warehouses.”

Jason stared at him. “You know what? I don't even care. But you should know B totally lost his shit when you turned your tracker off, and he's had everyone going all over the city looking for you for the last hour. When you show up without even a broken nose or anything, he's probably gonna bench you for a week _and_ take away your internet access.”

Tim scoffed. “He can't _ground_ me. I'm a grown man, I do what I want.”

“He's _Batman._ I'm pretty sure that means you do what _he_ wants.”

“I have my own apartment,” Tim said with a shrug. “It's not like I need his internet anyway.”

“Yeah, and I'm pretty sure Babs is the one who manages your network, and even if B doesn't tell her to, I'm pretty sure she'll cut your net off herself for all the shit you put us through.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “You're just sucking up because you want Bruce to approve of you and Damian.”

“I don't _suck up!_ ”

Jason reached out to grab him, and Tim ducked away.

“Ew! Don't touch me with your hands!”

Jason snorted. “Why, because you don't know where they've been and they might have _germs_?”

“Oh, I know _exactly_ where they've been.”

Jason froze, and Tim used the distraction to pull up his cowl.

“Wait—”

But Tim did not wait. He tapped a small button on his belt and the three thin strips of low-grade plastic explosives he placed on the wall when he'd arrived exploded, blowing a six foot tall rectangle into the wall, which Tim then slipped out of. The last thing he heard before disappearing into the night was Jason shouting—

“Were you _watching us!?_ ” 


	7. Sometimes Darkness is Nothing But the Absence of Understanding

Tim hated pedophiles.

Well, _obviously._ But still, right now it was a personal, specialized hatred.

The entire family had been out all night trying to track down Gotham's latest sicko serial killer. Contrary to popular belief, Gotham _does_ still have its run of the mill psychos. It's just that, at some point, even the least flamboyant criminal decides to try on a mask, because even among criminals _peer pressure is a real thing_ and the cowardly and superstitious do really dumb things just because everyone else is doing it too. But this latest one? He liked to go against the crowd. No mask. No letters to the press. No taunts sent to the cops. No calling out the Batman via a series of elaborate clues left at the crime scene or getting plastic surgery to turn himself into Bruce Wayne and what the hell _is_ Tommy Elliot's deal anyway?

Because that guy is just weird. Maybe not Pyg weird, but weird.

But Tim digresses.

The point is, Gotham's new pedophile serial killer is actually really good at _not_ leaving a trail, which means everyone had been pulling double and triple duty for the last week, in addition to managing their civilian lives, and it was really starting to grind all of them down, Bruce included. And even after they found out who he was, he was almost impossible to actually track down.

Which might not have been as stressful as it was, but they were pretty sure he had a kid with him when he ran and—

There were so many ways this could end badly that just thinking about it made Tim feel like screaming. Because he'd seen the bodies this guy left behind. He'd been _in the room_ with one of them. Seen the blood _covering_ the walls. The things this guy did to these kids before he killed them...and then _after_ he'd killed them were...

It was a special kind of evil. Even for Gotham. Or maybe especially for Gotham, where evil so often comes with a gaudy costume and a theme, and the more mundane criminals rarely make the headlines.

“ _This is Red Hood, I got him. The kid's safe too.”_

For a moment, all Tim felt was relief that penetrated to his _soul_. 'The kid is safe' are the four best words anyone can hear in this profession, and now he can _finally_ relax, stand down off _24/7 high alert_ , curl up in his bed, and _cry_.

All in all, a good night.

“ _Hood,”_ Batman's voice came over the comm. _“Where are you?”_

Silence.

“ _Hood, report.”_

Silence from Jason was rarely ever good.

“ _Oracle, activate his tracker. Everyone, to Red Hood's position._ Now _.”_

With a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach, Tim fired off a line and followed the glowing red dot superimposed over the lens in his cowl. It didn't take long to find Jason since, as always seems to be the case, Tim was the closest. It also didn't take long to realize the reason Jason wasn't answering his comm was because he was too busy beating their new (former now, since it's a profession you don't get much opportunity to practice in jail) child murderer to death on a rooftop.

_Joy._

Tim landed on the roof and proceeded to try and stop him, which only ended up with Jason taking a swing at him and Tim—and this is really quite understandable because he's _tired_ and Jason is _good—_ taking the full force of his fist on the tip of his nose.

The upside was, Jason _might_ have apologized. At least, Tim thought he might have. His head was ringing pretty bad so what Jason said could have been either “Shit, sorry babybird” or “Suck it, replacement”.

It could easily go either way with Jason.

No matter what he said, once he realized Tim wasn't going to get right back up—again, _completely understandable—_ Jason went back to beating on the murderer. Thankfully, that was when everyone else showed up. Tim's head cleared enough to hear them try to talk him down.

“Jason, stop!” Cass shouted.

“Don't do it, little wing, come on, he's not getting away this time. We got him.”

“The police will be here soon. You did good, son. Stand down.”

And so on.

The only one conspicuous by his silence was Damian, standing off to the side, away from everyone but closer to Jason than the rest. Slowly, he made his way towards his—and Tim still can't believe this is real—boyfriend and placed his hand on his shoulder.

Jason stilled.

Everyone else fell silent. Because, yeah, they _could_ just lunge at Jason and pull him off the guy, but there was a time Bruce had tried that back when Jason was first reintegrating into the family, and the only thing that accomplished was a dead drug dealer with his throat ripped out, a broken nose for Bruce— _see it even happened to Batman—_ and Jason disappearing for almost a month. Since then, they always tried to convince him to stop on his own when he got like this. It had been so long, though, and maybe they had all fallen out of practice. Just a little bit.

And then, Damian spoke.

“He is not worthy of having his life ended by your hand. Do not dirty yourself with his blood any longer.”

Jason's response was so quiet, Tim had no doubt it was meant for Damian's ears alone. Or maybe Jason was just talking to himself.

“He doesn't deserve to live. Just breathing the same air makes me wanna throw up.”

“I know,” Damian said, more softly than Tim would have though him capable of. “But you are better than he is, and it would honor him to have you take his life. Let him be killed by his own kind. You know men like him never last long in prison.”

Tim knew Bruce was frowning without even having to look. What Damian was saying wasn't, in the strictest sense, untrue, but it wasn't the kind of thing the Batman taught, either. Still, it worked. With a growl, Jason let go of the man's throat. He fell limply to the ground, and Nightwing rushed over and searched for his pulse. A moment later he pulled out a zip tie and bound his hands.

Tim stopped caring what happened to the man after that. Instead, his attention was drawn to a shadowed corner of the roof, where two shapes sat huddled together. The taller one had discarded his helmet, and buried his head in the shoulder of the smaller. He, in turn, ran his fingers through the taller one's hair, murmuring what Tim could only assume were words of comfort in his ear.

He understood, then. Sort of. Because right then they weren't Jason and Damian, or Red Hood and Robin. They were two people who would never really be free from their past, from what the al Ghul's, in various ways, made them. Two people who understood each other in ways no one else ever could. Sure, eventually the moment would end and they would part and go back to being Damian and Jason, Red Hood and Robin; and Tim would most likely go back to being at least a little bit weirded out by two people who he thought of as his brothers being together in _that_ way. But for right now?

For right now, he would just smile sadly, and turn his back, and give them their privacy.

And considering everyone else on that roof seemed to find the exact same billboard for the Gotham Theater Troupe’s revival of Cats to be utterly fascinating, he figured he wasn't the only one who had the same idea.


	8. Please Be Happy Someplace Else, or; Why Tim Can't Have Nice Things. And Why Sometimes He Can.

One of the things Tim really liked to do during his free time was think up new slogans for coffee. Stuff like, “Coffee: It's What's for Dinner. (And Breakfast, and Lunch. And Then Dinner Again)” or “Coffee, Keeping America's Superheroes Running So You Don't Have to Look Out for Yourself” and, his personal favorite, “Coffee, It's Saved More Lives Than Penicillin.” He actually did the math on that last one, and if you factor in all the lives heroes have saved around the world that they wouldn't have been able to save if they had normal, non-coffee-for-every-meal sleep schedules, (including the times they've saved the entire _multi-verse_ running on nothing but the dregs from the Justice League's Mr Coffee) it's factually accurate. He has seven different graphs to prove it, too.

One of the other things Tim really liked to do during his free time was, perhaps not surprisingly, go out for coffee. It was his favorite ritual, getting ready for his coffee trips. More so even than suiting up as Red Robin. He cut his shower routine in half of coffee days, less concerned with perfectly styled hair and cheeks that were buffed to a mirror sheen and more concerned with that most elusive of white whales—comfort. He let his hair dry naturally, which gave it a slightly frizzy look that would get him laughed out of a WE boardroom, threw on a pair of old, tattered jeans and a thin, faded hoodie, before topping off the look with a pair of too-large-to-be-hip glasses and some old, broken in running shoes. If someone were to notice him walking the city streets, they would find it next to impossible to recognize the thrown-together-boy as the sleek and fashionable Tim Wayne, CEO and Heir Apparent to the Wayne Empire. But that was only half the point. The other half, the half Tim really enjoyed, was being able to be _Tim_. Or, rather, who he thought Tim would be if he had a more normal life. Just another admittedly dorky twenty-something in jeans and a hoodie more concerned with blogging and binge watching his latest TV obsession and getting his morning fix than tracking the Scarecrow's latest chemical shipment or pouring over the surveillance logs from the bugs he'd placed in that mafioso's penthouse.

Not to say that collating data was _uninteresting,_ of course.

Just not something that was done on coffee days.

Tim's favorite coffee shop was halfway across the city from his apartment, and he walked whenever the weather permitted. It was a nice little place in a section of the city that attracted a lot of students; just hipster enough to where his slightly unkempt appearance wouldn't stand out, but not as pretentious as some university neighborhood coffee houses tried to be. Despite having some of the best coffee Tim had ever tasted— _sorry Alfred—_ it was never very crowded when he went, so he was able to get his drink—a different order every time, coffee was the one area of his life he couldn't stand having a routine for—and find a seat quickly. Tim closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet aroma of his vanilla macchiato with hazel nut shavings. _Ah, bliss._ It had been so long since he'd been able to take a day for himself—in fact, the only reason he had today off at all was because Alfred put his foot down and insisted that _everyone_ take twenty four hours off from everything, barring an emergency “ _which only_ I _will be allowed to determine, Master Bruce. There will be no assumptions that the Joker will break out of Arkham Asylum tonight because 'it just feels like one of those nights'. You will relax and you will enjoy yourself, even if it kills you”—_ and he was determined to enjoy every last second.

So of course, the first things he sees when he opens his eyes are Jason and Damian, sitting three tables in front of him.

It took less than three seconds for Tim to pull his hood down as far over his face as it would go and shove himself into the book he'd brought with him. Once he was safely hidden, he allowed himself exactly one minute to bemoan his fate.

“Oh my god why are they here?” he whispered frantically into his well worn copy of _Starship Troopers_. “ _Here_. How did they even find this place? I kept it secret! I had it erased from all the Bat computers! _How?_ I—don't—it... _Are they following me?_ ”

Well, no, he realized a few seconds later. Because they were obviously on a date. Like, _obviously,_ obviously. Like sitting on the same side of the table obviously. Like, _holding hands in public_ obviously.

Tim blinked rapidly, trying to process the idea of Jason smiling so warmly without even the tiniest edge of sarcasm or mockery. Of Damian smiling _at all_ . Of how...normal, they both looked. Like an actual couple. Of course they _were_ a couple, but still...he would have expected their dates to be more “beating up rapists in Crime Alley” or “critiquing the torture scenes in action movies for accuracy”. Which was probably incredibly unfair, but if someone were to point that out Tim would fire back that life itself was unfair, then he would flip his hair and sashay out of whatever room he was in, because he is Tim Drake-Wayne and he is _right_ , bitches.

But once again, Tim digresses.

Point is, he never expected to see Jason and Damian at _his_ coffee heaven, let alone on a date. Let alone looking so relaxed and...content.

Jason leaned in and whispered something in Damian's ear. The demon-spawn blushed—and Tim would _never_ get used to that—and jammed two fingers into Jason's side. Jason yelped, drawing in a few curious eyes from the surrounding tables, but instead of retaliating and starting an _epic brawl_ he just laughed, grabbed Damian's hand and

_kissed_

_his_

_fingers_.

Tim choked on 78.09% nitrogen, 20.95% oxygen, 0.93% argon, 0.039% carbon dioxide and small amounts of other gasses.

Suddenly, _he_ felt like the intruder.

He could have left, then. Because, really, he wasn't going to be able to enjoy himself here as long as _they_ could look over at any time and notice him, disguise or no. Also, while Tim could be an asshole sometimes, he wasn't _malicious_ about it. If his brothers were on a date then he didn't want to... _intrude_ , or anything. God and Alfred—though Tim repeats himself—know they get less moments of peace than even the rest of the family. And yet...

And yet.

Ever since that night on the roof, Tim had gone from plugging his ears and closing his eyes and shouting “lalalala!” at the top of his lungs whenever someone even _looked_ like they were going to be talking about _This_ to being...kinda curious. As disturbing as it could be to see Damian smiling like any other fifteen year old out on a date—well, any other fifteen year old out on a date with his several years older brother/boyfriend—it was still...nice, seeing him that way. And it went without saying that Tim enjoyed seeing Jason completely relaxed, for several reasons. Not as much as he would have enjoyed it during The Crush, but enough. Because despite everything they were his brothers and Tim liked life best when his family was happy.

(Okay, so maybe a happy family at a _different_ coffee shop would be better...)

So instead of leaving, his curiosity got the better of him. Tim wanted to understand again. Understand why these two, why _Damian_ and _Jason_ , worked when all the laws of physics and logic said that they shouldn't. And really, what do they even _talk_ about? So he slid down in his chair just enough to hopefully hide out of their line of sight, and settled in to _watch_.

Something that wouldn't be possible without Tim's _epic_ lip reading skills.

'Cease this manhandling at once!' Damian hissed. Or at least Tim imagined it was a hiss.

'What?' Jason asked, all fake-innocence that Tim knew so well, both from his time at the manor and from his stalker days. Jason's face had always been incredibly expressive, even through Tim's worst camera lenses, and when they finally spent time together without the masks and a good deal of the hate, Tim had been surprised how well his mental “voice” for Jason matched up with the real thing. 'I thought you liked when I—'

'If you finish that sentence I will end you.'

Jason smirked. 'Will it be a happy ending?'

Damian flushed _again_ , but the part of Tim that was made up of pure sass stood up and applauded when he responded with 'Not for several weeks if you do not release my hand immediately.'

The rest of him was quietly horrified because he'd _just managed to forget about that_.

'Fine, fine.' Jason rolled his eyes, but still gave Damian's palm a quick kiss before letting go. The demon-spawn's blush deepened as he snatched his hand back, but instead of striking back now that he was free, he grabbed his own coffee and hid behind it, sulking.

'Hey, come on, don't be like that. We're having a good time, right?'

Damian pointedly refused to look at Jason, and it was only because Tim was at the perfect angle to see past the coffee that he could tell what Damian said next. 'Do not tease me.'

'You know I only do it because I care.'

And, _oh my god_ , Jason was just casually admitting his emotions with no prompting at all. This was...well technically Tim had seen it before during _that night_ , but this was different. Then, he was shouting it at Bruce in anger. This was...

Tender.

'You tease everyone. You tease _Drake._ '

Tim glared at him through bangs and coffee steam. _You don't have to say my name with so much disgust that it comes through when I'm_ reading your lips _._

'Yeah. But when it starts bothering _you_ I actually stop.'

Damian's eyes flicked towards Jason and screwed up his mouth in that way he does when he's clicking his tongue. 'Whatever.'

But he lowered the coffee, and ever so subtly slid his chair closer to Jason's.

And Jason grinned.

They sat in silence for a while sipping at their drinks. All three of them, because like it or not Tim was now a _part_ of the “them” in this situation and there was no way he was letting his coffee get cold. Again, Tim was amazed by the air of contentment surrounding Jason and Damian, so obvious even from across the coffee shop. He wondered when they found it; _how_ they found it. Because even now that everyone _knew_ , they never seemed any different around anyone else. Jason still held himself slightly apart from the rest of the family; a bit defensive and quick to respond in anger. And Damian had _never_ stopped being the little demon-brat since the day he showed up. If anything, puberty had only sharpened his brattiness to a finely honed edge. He couldn't imagine any scenario where those two held a conversation long enough to get past the instinctual barbs and angry, sometimes violent responses to anything perceived as an insult or a threat and become friends, let alone anything more. How had it happened? What was the spark that ignited their fire? Why in the _heck_ was Tim suddenly thinking in romance novel cliches?

Jason slid his arm behind Damian, not touching him, just laying it on the back of his chair. After a moment, Damian leaned his head back, resting it on Jason's arm.

_Oh, right. That's why._

'So,' Jason said, and Tim was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed it. 'How have things with Bruce been lately?'

Damian glanced at him. 'Is this your oblique way of asking if father still disapproves?'

'Well, I'd—'

'And do not pretend you have no idea what that word means.'

Jason raised an eyebrow. 'I was just gonna say I'd ask directly but the last time I did you destroyed a practice dummy, and this probably isn't the best place to start beating on things.'

Damian scrunched up his face. 'I just do not like when you pretend you aren't intelligent,' he said in response to some silent question even Tim didn't see being asked. 'People should recognize and admire you for all of your talents, not just your martial prowess.' Damian flushed slightly. 'And it is insulting to me. As if _I_ would be seen on a date with an idiot.'

Jason laughed. 'Aww, I love you too.'

Tim assumed he said that teasingly, but the soft smile on his face as he looked down at Damian said the complete opposite, whatever his words sounded like.

Damian grumbled something Tim didn't catch before saying, 'To answer your question, he seems...resigned, to the fact that we're together.'

Jason seemed surprised. 'Really?'

Damian hesitated, then nodded. 'It is something father goes out of his way not to mention, but if he disapproved as much as he did when you first told him, nothing would stop him from lecturing me. And probably attempting to get Pennyworth to do the same. And he doesn't object when we go on patrol together anymore either.”

Jason pressed his lips together, and Tim thought he was probably humming thoughtfully. Or maybe scoffing. 'That's good, I guess.'

Damian turned in his chair to face Jason fully, a small frown on his lips. 'Does it truly bother you so much?'

'Not that he disapproves. I don't need his approval.' Tim and Damian _both_ shot him identical looks of disbelief. Jason ignored the one he saw. 'Just...I don't like that me fucking with him was the first thing that popped into his head. I was pretty sure he was gonna take a swing at me when I told him, but that's understandable. I'd do the same thing if I had a daughter—'

Damian puffed himself up indignantly.

'—or a son—' Jason smirked faintly. '—who was your age dating someone my age. I just figured Bruce would have known me better by now. That he would have taken the time to know me better.'

Tim winced, because, yeah, he'd thought the exact same thing. And it wasn't like he hadn't been there before too. Even after being accepted as Robin, Bruce had tended to hold him at a distance. It was understandable when he first put on the tights and Jason's loss was still so raw and the hole Tim was filling still so obvious, but as the years went by Tim felt a very similar resentment when Bruce would brush him off, or assume something about him that literally _everyone_ else who knew him knew was untrue. Even now, after saving Bruce from being lost in time and everything he did at WE, after the both of them spending more time together then they _ever_ had in the past, Bruce _still_ sometimes looked at Tim like he had no idea who his third Robin was. Although part of it could have been because of that time Dick showed Bruce Tim's Tumblr and, really, it was very hard to understand the _context_ of the stuff he re-blogged without having watched or read about sixty different things, and without the context it just looked like a lot of digital squealing, ranting, and borderline porn.

Still.

It was a failing on Bruce's part, connecting with other people on an emotional level, one everyone was aware of and knew how to work around.

But that didn't mean it still couldn't hurt, from time to time.

Jason sighed and glanced down at the table. Damian stared at him for almost a full minute, a sad little frown pulling at his lips, before he reached up and pulled Jason's arm off his chair and wrapped it around his shoulders, squeezing his hand. Jason started slightly, and shot Damian a questioning look.

'If he hasn't, then it is his loss. Out of everyone in that house, you are the only one worth getting to know.'

Tim could have been insulted, but it was just such a _Damian_ way to try and comfort someone by _insulting every other member of his family_ that he could only laugh softly into his coffee.

Jason's smile was the stuff of romantic legend, all “sun coming up over the clouds” and rainbows and puppy dogs and Tim might have been slightly jealous because no one had _ever_ made him smile that way. He squeezed Damian's hand back.

'Not the only one.'

Tim glanced away. This was too private, too personal. He was seeing a side to his brothers they would _never_ willingly show to anyone else, and Tim couldn't help feeling guilty about witnessing it.

Plus, he was pretty sure that at least one of them would actually kill him if they happened to look over and see him staring _now_.

He drained the remains of his coffee, intending to throw it away and leave, when _it_ happened.

“Timmy?”

Tim froze, for a second absolutely _sure_ one of them had spotted him and that he was about to be killed in front of witnesses and they'd both get sent to jail and Bruce will lose all his sons except Dick in a single day and _how gloomy will the manor be after that happens—_

But then he realized the voice was coming from the table next to him, and Jason and Damian were both still at their table and—

Tim turned towards the voice.

A skinny red-headed boy grinned and waved at him. “I thought that was you. You look a lot different with the glasses. When did you start wearing them? Oh! Are you here to spy on Jay and Dami's date too?”

Tim blinked. “...Colin?”

The boy nodded, his grin getting even wider. “Hi!”

Tim blinked again. Because. Well. It had obviously been a while since Tim had been to the manor while Colin was there, because he could have sworn the last time he saw him Colin was a tiny little thing with tattered, oversized clothes and bandages all over his face. _This_ Colin was...

Definitely not that.

Which actually made a lot of sense, because kids didn't just freeze during the aging process. They grew up. It was one of those biological constants that tied humanity together, like the human body being made up of 50-65% water, or it being physically impossible to watch Toy Story 3 without splitting open and literally spewing feelings out into the atmosphere. With Damian, said growing up had mostly taken the form of sharpening his features slightly and multiplying his sass by a factor of four. With Colin, growing up had apparently taken a tiny, freckled boy in oversized clothes and _bandages on his face_ and somehow made him _even more adorable_.

“Um, hi.”

Tim waved back, briefly forgetting he was trying to be inconspicuous. When he realized what he was doing he snatched his hand out of the air with his other hand and shoved both of them in his lap.

Colin giggled.

“So, you're here to spy on their date too, right?”

Tim flinched, because Colin had apparently never been taught what an “inside voice” was, and shot a panicked glance across the shop. Jason was gone, and a quick scan showed him at the counter ordering more coffee. Damian was at the table, swiping angrily at his phone which probably meant he was playing Fruit Ninja again and, dear god, Tim needed to sit him down and try introduce him to _real_ video games again before he got access to a credit card and became one of those tragic nightly news stories about a child who blew through a quarter of their parents life savings buying crap in FarmVille.

“Timmy?”

_Oh. Right._

“Um, not...on purpose.” Colin raised an eyebrow, a startlingly adult gesture on someone Tim still thought of as a little kid. _Except he's not a little kid anymore._ Definitely not. Especially since, judging by the way his legs were folded up under his table, there was the slight but disturbing possibility that he might actually be taller than Tim now. “I just came in for coffee and they were there.”

“And you just decided to watch them?”

Tim nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

Colin grinned again. “They're totally adorable, aren't they?”

“...that could be one word used to describe it, yes. Are you...spying?”

“Yep,” Colin said with a nod.

Tim couldn't help himself. “Dear god, _why_?”

“Well, it started because I needed to make sure Jay was treating Dami right, but the first time I saw them kiss it was like, _woah_ , yeah, no need to worry there. After that, I just kinda started following them around when Dami would ditch me when we were hanging out at the orphanage, because I was bored and didn't have anything else to do.”

“Is that why you're following them today? Because Damian ditched you?”

Someone was going to have to have a talk with him about how to treat his friends...

But it wasn't going to be Tim.

“Oh, no.” Colin waved his hand dismissively. “We weren't even supposed to see each other today.”

“Then how did you end up here?”

“Because they _always_ come here, and when I need some new material this is always the first place I look.”

“Oh.” That made sense. Except— “Wait, _material_?”

“Oh, yeah, I haven't talked to you in forever and you probably have no idea. I run a blog about them.”

Tim's heart did a little thing, just then. He had no idea what it was, but he was pretty sure it meant he was going to die a little bit sooner than he was a few minutes ago.

“A _blog_?”

Colin nodded.

“About _them_?”

Colin nodded again. “Wanna see?”

_Oh dear god no._ But Tim's body was doing that thing where it didn't listen to anything he screamed at it, so instead of calmly getting up and walking away he just nodded slowly. Colin grinned.

“Awesome!” He quickly fumbled through his worn, old backpack—the one Tim definitely remembered from when Colin was a little kid because he always had the urge to sew that strap up and how in the _heck_ has that not fallen off yet—and pulled out a surprisingly expensive looking phone.

“Dami got it for my birthday,” Colin said, very correctly interpreting the expression on Tim's face. He didn't seem upset or offended that Tim had very clearly just did the whole “you look so poor how could possibly afford that?” thing that he hadn't quite been able to kick from growing up around super rich people, and he thought that showed remarkable strength of character.

Or superhuman obliviousness.

“Here,” Colin said, shoving the phone into Tim's hands. “Check it out.”

Tim immediately recognized the page that was open as a Tumblr, although the actual blog itself was one he definitely hadn't seen before.

If he had, he probably would have cried.

Heck, he still might.

“'The JayDami Chronicles?'”

“Yep. It's my blog.”

Tim could see that. He could also see the million and a half pictures and text posts, all either featuring Jason and Damian, or a place they liked to go, or a description of what Colin had seen when he followed them on a date. It was...actually really, really creepy.

And he wasn't just saying that because Colin had more followers than he did.

Not even at all.

Tim stared at Colin. “How... _why_...?”

Colin laughed. “I never actually meant to be, you know, a stalker. When I followed them again after that first time I took a picture of them kissing to show Casey—she lives at the orphanage with me and she's _super_ smart—because even though it _looked_ fine, I had no idea if Dami was being, you know, _coerced_ or anything, and she would, but she said it looked totally consensual so it was cool.” He actually sounded like he was trying to reassure Tim, which was...kind of cute, actually. “But then Mandy—she _also_ lives with me at the orphanage—saw the picture and wouldn't stop _squealing_ about how cute they were and begged me to take more pictures, and since I was going to follow them again _anyway_ I said I would and soon everyone at the orphanage was asking to see them. Then Dami got me the phone even though he _totally didn't have to_ and showed me Tumblr and I posted some of the pictures and there are apparently a _lot_ of people online who think they're adorable too and—”

“Wait, wait. _Damian_ is on Tumblr?”

“Oh yeah. He reblogs, like, _every_ Hannigram post _ever,_ which I don't really get because how is a cannibal hot and murder husbands is just so weird, but I don't like judging people so I just scroll past them when they pop up on my dashboard.”

Tim...had no idea how to process the idea of Damian _watching a TV show_ and being part of a _shipping community_. It was...Colin could have told him he saw Damian literally shedding his skin and turning into a mermaid, and that would be less unbelievable than this. But since he was Tim and observant and deductive and everything, there was one other part of that he needed to address first.

“You...you _follow_ him?” He held out the phone, which currently displayed a very high resolution picture of Damian _aggressively snuggling_ Jason under a tree in the park. “From _this_ blog?”

“Oh, no! Of course not. I follow him from my personal.” He grabbed the phone and tapped the screen a few times. “Here.”

Tim took it and found himself looking at another Tumblr page. Thankfully, this one didn't have more followers than his, but a few of the posts _did_ look awfully familiar...

“Hey! You're that guy I was arguing with about fan casting Ben Reilly the other night!”

“Really?” Colin frowned.

“Yeah.”

“ _You're_ birdseyeviewofgotham?” Colin asked, narrowing his eyes. He looked like he was about to _lunge_.

Tim nodded warily.

“The one who yelled at me for wanting someone _other_ than Tom Holland with dyed hair to play Ben Reilly?”

“He's a clone! He has to look the same!”

“You can just find an actor who looks similar—”

“That never works. Have you ever _seen_ Sliders? It's a disaster. You have to get the same actor and edit him in to the scene—”

“Oh and _that_ never looks stupid? They never even look at each other and it's so _obvious_ which one is standing in front of the blue screen because he _never_ lines up right—”

“Technology has come a _long_ way and it looks a lot better than it does in some older movies.”

“Still looks terrible.”

“Less terrible than trying to find someone who looks like someone else.”

“Less terrible than trying to find an actor who can act to himself and not _suck_ at it.”

“Brent Spiner did it in pretty much _every_ season of TNG and it was _always_ good.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone is Brent Spiner. Especially Tom Holland.”

“He's not bad. But yeah, he's no Andrew Garfield.”

“ _Ohmygod,_ I know! I _cried_ when I heard they were recasting. Just, big ugly sobs and gobs of snot everywhere. It took forever for Sister Agnes to calm me down, even if she did yell at me when she found out _why_ I was crying, but it's not like I _meant_ to scare her like that...”

Tim laughed, because he could just picture some worried nun frantically trying to calm Colin down, probably thinking he'd just had something horrible happen to him, only to find out he was crying over Spider-Man and just losing her crap on him for it.

“I still can't believe that was you, though,” Colin said, smiling slightly.

Tim smiled back. “Yeah, me either.”

“Small world, I guess.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. I'm just glad I found you on _that_ blog instead of the other one. Especially since I'm pretty sure we argued about stuff way before I found out about Jason and Damian too.”

Colin giggled. “Oh wow, that would have been _epic_.”

Tim thought for a moment. “Actually, that probably would have been better then how I actually found out.”

“Really?” Colin's eyes widened. “What happened? _Tell me_!”

It was strange. For a while now people demanding he tell them about how he found out about Jason and Damian was his _least_ favorite question by like a factor of _fifty,_ but he didn't really mind when Colin asked.

So, he told him the story, and Colin's scandalized gasps and breathlessly whispered “ _Oh my god”s_ were way better than Dick's “but are they having _sex?_ ” and Steph's “why didn't you _record this_?”

They fell into another conversation after that, and then another, seamlessly switching from topic to topic, from argument to agreement, in a way Tim had never experienced with another, real life person before. Usually by now, if he was talking to someone who he wasn't already friends with, one of his social anxieties would have popped up or his phone would have vibrated with a text about some Bat-emergency from Babs and totally killed the conversation. But with Colin, he never even noticed how much time was passing until the other boy stood up and said “Shoot! They're leaving, and I still haven't gotten any good pictures.”

He bit his lip, obviously reluctant about going, and for some reason that made Tim smile.

“Go on,” he said. “You can probably still catch up.”

Colin chewed his lip a little more, obviously conflicted. “You sure?”

Tim nodded. He didn't exactly _want_ the conversation to end, but he'd sort of had a weird day filled with way too many emotions for someone partially raised by the Batman and he kind of wanted to go home, curl up in front of his computer, and decompress a bit.

“Yeah. It's fine. Promise.”

Colin glanced at the door. Then back to Tim. Then back to the door. Then finally back to Tim one last time before nodding. “Okay. Cool. Um.” He chewed his lip again. “I had fun. You know. Talking and...stuff.”

Tim smiled. “Me too.”

“Yeah. We should maybe...do it again sometime?” Colin asked, glancing away and

_scuffing_

_the_

_floor_

_with_

_his_

_toe._

_This kid is_ way _too adorable._

“Yeah,” Tim answered. “I'd like that.”

Colin beamed. “Great! So, um. I'll talk to you later Timmy! Bye!”

He bounded towards the door, pulling it open. He paused to give Tim one last wave before racing out down the street after Jason and Damian.

Yeah, Tim thought, this had been a very weird day.

Not at all bad, though.

And that night when he got home and opened up his email, the first thing he saw was a Tumblr notification with the subject “abusiveorphan is now following you”. Tim smiled and followed back before settling in for a night of constant refreshing and textually demolishing people's horrible opinions on various fandoms.

Yep. Not a bad day at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in addition to committing my own cardinal sin of writing two things at the same time, I totally committed another one and wrote a lot of these chapters out of order. I've actually had this written for days, and the last one was the third one I wrote. I bring this up, not because I like pretending I'm recording DVD commentary for my stories (even though I so do) but because there might be some minor continuity errors in future or past chapters, by this point. Hopefully I've caught them all, because even though this is stupid and cracky, I don't want it to be sucky as well.


	9. Sometimes a Bridge is Just Metaphorical.

Sometimes Tim was sure that Disney had access to some kind of pool of secret knowledge, because their annoying theme park songs were startlingly accurate.

It was, in fact, a small world after all.

Because it seemed like everywhere Tim went these days—even places like the comic book/movie memorabilia store that _Jason had made fun of him for shopping at—_ he ended up running into Jason and Damian. It was driving him crazy. Or, it would have been, except—

It also meant he kept running into Colin.

Which was...nice, because Tim didn't have many friends these days, and the ones he did have all seemed to be way too much like him—vigilante, hectic life, too much stress—and yet very few of them actually shared his off-mask interests. Sure, there was Kon, who was always up for video games and a movie marathon. Or Bart, who read comics religiously and never missed new comic day _anywhere in the world_ thanks to his super speed. Or Cass, who was pretty much _the_ perfect lazy afternoon reading partner. But Kon never really wanted to _discuss_ the movies or the plot lines of the games, and Bart had—understandably—been spending most of his time with Jamie lately, and Cass was out of the country more than she was home, and Colin...

Well. Colin was all of that, and more.

Because, yeah, he was a vigilante too, but it never seemed to take over his life the way it did with Tim. He didn't know if it was because Colin was still so...not young, because age didn't really have anything to do with it. Maybe _enthusiastic_. Because he still had that wide-eyed wonder about actually being able to go out and _do something_ about the problems he saw, and he always seemed to focus on the people he'd _helped_ , as opposed to the ones he'd failed. And while he wasn't as big a video game guy as Tim could be, and their taste in movies was at the same time scarily similar and wildly different, and he could be _vicious_ when he thought someone wasn't giving his favorite comic book characters the respect they deserved, he brought that same infectious energy to every single thing they talked about. Which Tim appreciated, because while he was somewhat jaded about the vigilante thing at times, he could be _disturbingly_ enthusiastic about his shows and his games and it was just _so nice_ to be able to let that part of him out in front of another person without getting blank looks or an “oh, I just remembered this thing I need to do somewhere far away from here bye now”.

But it was also strange, because Colin was Damian's first, and best, friend, and Tim sometimes felt like he was...well, kind of stealing that away. Because Tim could easily see him and Colin becoming best friends too.

Well. _Maybe_.

“Okay, on three. You ready?”

Tim took a deep breath, then nodded. He'd been enjoying hanging out with Colin and he didn't want anything to ruin that, but he knew it was best to find these things out _before_ they became so close that it would _hurt_ to have a rift come between them.

“Okay,” Colin said. Judging by the way he was chewing on his lip and looking everywhere but _at_ Tim, it seemed like Tim wasn't the only one who was nervous. “One.”

“Two,” Tim said.

Colin glanced at him. They both hesitated. And then—

“Three.”

“ _Picard!_ ”

Tim almost collapsed in relief. “Oh thank god.”

Colin laughed, his whole face lighting up with joy and relief. “I know, right? I don't know what I would have done if you said Archer.”

“Really? You thought—” Tim shook his head. “I was sure you were going to say Janeway.”

“ _Janeway_? Oh Timmy... I don't even get Sisko?”

Tim shrugged. “I just thought it, I don't know _why_ I thought it.”

“Probably because you hate Janeway and you're this, you know, _huge_ pessimist?” Colin said, shooting Tim an amused look through his bangs.

“Probably,” he conceded.

Colin laughed. “I wouldn't have been too upset if _you_ said Sisko, though.”

“Yeah, he's not bad, just—”

“No Picard.” Colin nodded. “Totally. And Kirk isn't bad either—”

“Which Kirk?”

“They're both good in their own ways, but Chris Pine can act and he was my first Kirk, so...”

“Fair enough.”

“But none of them hold a candle to Spock.”

“Oh, of course not. But he's not a captain.”

“Still though.”

“True. Spock is—”

“Perfect, I know. Especially Zachary Quinto Spock. Not that Leonard Nemoy isn't amazing,” he added quickly, correctly interpreting the growing look of horror on Tim's face. “But Zachary Quinto is just so...” Colin sighed. “You know?”

Tim hesitated, but then nodded. “Yeah.”

Because Tim did know. And so did Colin. And that's why he didn't mind running into Jason and Damian every time he stepped out of the manor. Because, more often than not, Colin was there.

And he knew. Without ever having to say what it was.


	10. Why Does Gotham Even Have a Rendering Plant?

Bruce glared at Tim as he tried to sink further into the shadows that covered the man's office at the manor. Tim glared right back, because he used to have _nightmares about this office_ and he resented the hell out of Bruce for calling this post-patrol meeting _there_ of all places.

Especially considering what the meeting was about.

“-tt- If I had known this was going to take so long I would had Pennyworth force Drake to shower.” Damian scrunched up his nose and leaned away from Tim. Which, considering they were already on opposite sides of the room, was completely unnecessary. “Being in a confined space with that _smell—_ ”

“Damian.” Bruce sounded equal parts stern and exhausted. Which, really, Tim _totally understood_. “If you want me to accept that you're mature enough to be in a relationship, stop acting like a child.”

Damian scowled. “You can't tell me you don't smell it.”

“ _Damian_.”

“Fine.” Damian crossed his arms and slumped against the bookcase. _Because that definitely makes him look like an adult._ Was what Tim would have said if he wasn't already half asleep on his feet and, honestly, he didn't want to be in a confined room with himself right now either, not after chasing Firefly through that rendering plant and, really he thought most of the stink was in his suit and he'd _burned it_ the moment he got back and changed, but apparently it had seeped into his _hair_ and _skin_ as well and—

_Why can't bad guys ever run away through a bakery?_

Finally, after they'd been waiting in increasingly tense silence for what seemed like _ever_ , the door opened and Jason came in, still dressed as Red Hood.

“Sorry,” he said, tossing the helmet on the nearest chair. “Dickie got hit with sex pollen and it was a bitch getting him into bed.”

Damian stiffened. “Excuse me?”

Jason flashed him a reassuring grin. “Not like that, babe.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is he okay?”

“He's fine, I got it covered. Roy's with him.”

“ _Roy Harper_?”

“Yeah.” Bruce stared flatly. “Don't look at me like that, it'll be fine. He's the one who handles me when I get hit with the stuff.”

Damian's eyebrow _twitched_. “ _Excuse me_?”

“ _Not like that_. I mean, he holds me down, keeps me from getting fresh until it wears off. It's the arm. Can't fight the arm.” He turned his attention back to Bruce. “Dickie'll be fine. And, even better, totally embarrassed that he begged me to let him suck me off.”

“Jason—”

“Even tried to get me to ask if 'Little D wants in on this'.”

Damian gagged, and Bruce looked equal parts ill and _I am vengeance._

“So.” Jason walked over and jumped into the chair closest to Damian. “We gonna do this talking thing or what?”

Bruce spared another three seconds to glare at the door—in lieu of Dick, Tim would guess—before turning his attention back to Jason and nodding.

“It's come to my attention that I may have handled the situation between you two...poorly. The whole family, minus Alfred of course, has, actually.” Bruce glanced at Tim. Who could have protested, but it was _kind of_ true. Even though he still felt justified because, _well._ But he knew the way he'd been reacting probably hadn't been helpful to either of them.

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” Jason asked flatly.

Bruce closed his eyes. “This isn't easy for me.”

“What? Apologizing? Admitting to being wrong? _Feeling basic human emotion_?”

Bruce fixed him with a sharp look. “Having two son who I have no idea how to be a father to.”

Well. _That_ definitely shocked Jason into silence.

“I've failed both of you, in so many ways. By not saving you from the Joker, for not being strong enough to stop you from chasing after your mother in the first place, for making you feel like you couldn't ask me for help. By not being there when you woke up in your coffin. For not getting to you first, before Talia could find you and throw you into a pit. Before she turned you into a killer. And Damian.” He turned towards his other son. “By not knowing about you. For not being there for the first ten years of your life. For not being able to give you a childhood, then or now.”

The silence that filled Bruce's office was deafening.

“I don't know how to be what either of you need. Not outside of the suit. Not as your _father_. But the one thing I should have been is accepting. I should have made an effort to understand, instead of reacting like your...relationship was an attack against me. And for that, and all my other failures, I _am_ sorry.”

Bruce's back was so stiff and straight as he waited for a response Tim was legitimately worried it might snap if he tensed up any more.

“Father...”

At some point Damian had walked over to Jason's chair, and was now resting his hand on Jason's arm. An arm which looked just as tense as Bruce's back, even through several layers of shirt, armor and jacket. Jason's face was blank and flushed, except for his lips which were pressed together so tightly they were almost as white as the streak in his hair. Damian was scowling, but not at Bruce, or Jason, or even Tim. It actually looked a lot like the scowl Tim had often imagined on Bruce's face, when the Bat was alone and trying to puzzle out those weird, distracting things called _feelings_.

“Father,” Damian tried again. “I...”

He glanced at Jason, who looked back even though Damian was too far out of his line of sight for him to have seen the head movement out of the corner of his eye. They shared a long look, filled with a communication so heavy and intimate Tim almost thought he could _see_ words flashing back and forth in the space between their eyes. He looked away, unwilling to intrude. He felt like he was doing that enough just by being in the room.

“As you wish, beloved.” Tim glanced back as Damian smiled gently at Jason for a brief moment, before looking back at Bruce. The scowl was nowhere to be seen, but neither was the smile.

“ _We_ forgive you.”

And that was it. No follow up. No elaboration. No clarification on which one of Bruce's mistakes they were forgiving—because there was no way this way blanket forgiveness, there was way too much, at least between Bruce and Jason, to forgive so easily. No—and Tim really had no idea how he would have handled this— _hugging_. Just a simple statement after a long, searching look between the two of them.

How very _Bat_.

Tim approved.

Bruce, of course, didn't relax one iota. “I want to understand,” he said, as if nothing had happened and no time had passed between his apology and this new sentence. “Your relationship; _you._ I want us _all_ to understand.”

A sidelong glance at Tim showed he was very much included in this. Which he'd already assumed when Bruce had ordered him, Dick, Jason, and Damian to meet in his office after to patrol to talk about the _situation_. And really, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't even mind. Jason and Damian being together didn't, exactly, disturb him as much as it used to anymore. Not since the rooftop. Not since the coffee shop. Not since he'd spent more time then he'd like to think about following them around with Colin.

Not since he'd started to _understand_.

Understand the looks and the touches, the in-jokes, and the way they just _worked_ together. And maybe he didn't know how it started, or why; maybe he'd _never_ know. Maybe it was just one of those things that needed to stay between them, that was too personal to ever be shared or put in the open where it could be criticized or discussed or made less than the absolutely magical moment it surely was for the two of them.

Maybe if he ever found himself in a similar situation, he'd feel the exact same way.

So yeah, maybe he didn't know how it started, but looking at them now, the way they leaned towards each other without even realizing it, the way they knew when the other was looking at them without actually seeing it, the way they seemed to hold entire conversations with a look and a smile, the way they survived the Batman's disapproval—something which each of them dreaded most in their own way—and actually got him to _apologize?_

Yeah, he might not know how it started, but he had a pretty good idea of how it was going to end.

“Okay.” Jason's voice was slightly hoarse, but otherwise he sounded completely normal. As if this was just any other conversation with Bruce. “What do you want to know?”

Bruce smiled slightly. “Anything you want to tell me.”

“And if we don't want to tell you anything?”

Bruce's smile never wavered. “Then that's fine too.”

Jason and Damian shared another glance, then both turned to look at Tim.

“If you'd feel more comfortable talking without me here, I can leave,” he offered. Damian's eyes narrowed, and Tim sighed. “I'm not saying I want to, or whatever you're thinking. I'm just saying. It might be less awkward with me out of the room. If...if you maybe wanted to talk with me about anything, you could, later. If you wanted. Or I could just stay. Or...whatever.”

Tim had never really gotten the hang of the supportive brother thing.

“-tt- As if having you around would—”

“Damian,” Bruce cut him off.

Damian scowled, but didn't try to finish his sentence.

“Maybe we could _all_ try to be a little more understanding.”

Damian looked like he'd swallowed raw sewage, until Jason reached over and squeezed his hand. “He isn't wrong. This is gonna be weird enough without an audience. How about we catch up with babybird later, huh?”

Tim blinked. _When the heck had_ Jason _become a voice of reason?_

The answer was, of course, _since Damian._

Damian pursed his lips, looking for all the world like he was pouting instead of...whatever he was going for.

“If we must.” He glanced at Tim, and maybe Tim was actually going insane this time, but he thought he saw a small hint of something that might not be utter disdain pass across his face. Tim wondered if he was remembering the other rooftop, the one after that sex shop gang war several months ago, where he had inadvertently reached out to Tim, and where Tim had, without really meaning to, reached back. “As long as he goes directly to the showers after he leaves. I will not be subjected to this smell ever again.”

Again, Tim couldn't really take offense. Not when he'd been breathing through his mouth this whole time. “I'm pretty sure Alfred's waiting right outside the door to shove me towards one the second I leave.”

“Then you should not keep him waiting.”

Tim smiled, slightly, because sometimes Damian was almost cute, when he was being a brat.

“Tim,” Bruce said, as Tim made to leave. He turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Good work tonight.”

Tim's other eyebrow raised in surprise. He couldn't even remember the last time Bruce had praised him when he wasn't obviously upset.

It felt nice.

Tim smiled. “Thanks, B.”

And then he left, leaving a small portion of his family alone so they could try to learn how to _be_ a family.

As the door swung shut behind him—and before Alfred materialized out of the shadows to whisk him off to the nearest shower—Jason's voice drifted out into the hall.

“So, do you wanna hear about all our mushy dates, or do you wanna know how many times I snuck into babybat's room without you finding out?”

They'd probably be at it for a while.


	11. Well, Actually, If You Go By The Dictionary Definition...

Tim let out a loud groan as he closed the door to his apartment behind him, _finally_ home after the _longest_ day at WE in the history of business. He dropped his briefcase on the foyer floor and wrenched open his tie. He'd almost forgotten there was a world outside his—admittedly nice—office. A world where there wasn't an accounting department on the other end of every other phone call, and board members didn't walk in without knocking every hour with another _great_ idea to boost profits and, _no Bob, even with the whole Batman Inc thing we can't copyright every superhero and sell their merchandise. No, not even if we cut them in on the sales. Why?_ And that was the question which always started his headache, because he couldn't just say, _I already asked Bruce, because I thought it would be a good idea too, and he said,_

“ _And what do you propose we do about heroes who have had different people wearing the same costume? Do you want to go through every piece of Flash merchandise and decide which action figure is Barry, and which t-shirt has Wally on it? Which of the white Green Lanterns is in this video game? Do you want to hand Wonder Woman a check for her cut of the_ fetish gear _sales? Or divide the profits from the sale of scaly green underwear between Dick and Jason?”_

“ _Okay, fine, I get it,” Tim grumbled. “But when I say no and they ask me why, I'm going to say 'Mr Wayne told me he hates profit' and then you can handle them.”_

_Bruce smirked faintly. “Bruce Wayne is known for going on unplanned vacations to exotic locations. You'll still have to deal with them when they can't get a hold of me. And I'm sure I'll enjoy my time in the Caribbean.”_

“ _I hate you.”_

“ _No you don't. Now get changed, we leave for patrol in thirty minutes.”_

He scowled at his briefcase, then kicked it for good measure. It went sliding across the floor, which wasn't nearly as satisfying as feeling someone's nose break under his _fist—_

_ Oh my god, I'm turning into Jason. _

Tim shuddered, and decided it was long past time he went to bed. He entered the apartment proper, ignoring the urge to check the growth of his eye bags in the mirror on the way, and—

“Drake.”

“Ah!” Tim clutched his heart and spun around. “ _Damian_?”

“Your detective skills are as sharp as ever. I can see why Grandfather still wants to make you his bride.”

Tim shuddered, because Ra's and his creepy, sporadic courtship was something he _really_ didn't need to be reminded of right now, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damian...what are you doing on my couch?”

He seemed pretty well settled in and from the looks of things, namely the empty Zesti bottles scattered over Tim's coffee table, he'd been there for quite a while too.

“Waiting for you to come home, of course.”

“Well. I'm home now.” Tim waited, but Damian just stared at him. “So... _why_ were you waiting for me?”

Damian looked like he'd just bit into something sour. “I...”

Tim slowly raised an eyebrow as he trailed off. “Yes?”

Damian clicked his tongue and looked away.

Tim sighed. “Look, I've been working for like eighteen hours, and that's not even including last night's patrol, so if you're not going to tell me why you're here, I'm going to bed. And if you wake me up after I go to bed, not even Jason will be able to save you.”

Damian shifted uncomfortably. Tim frowned.

“Is...something wrong with Jason?”

_ Oh please don't tell me you had a fight and decided to ask  _ me  _for advice for some weird Damian reason. Anything but that._

“No.”

Tim let out a breath. “Good. But that still doesn't tell me why you're here.”

Again, Damian said nothing. Part of him was starting to get worried, Damian almost _never_ had a problem saying what was on his mind. And the few times he did, well, there was usually a very good reason why he was reluctant to talk about it. A much bigger part, however, was still exhausted and dealing with Damian was never easy even with a full four hours of sleep and was not having any of this.

“Fine. I'm going to bed. Stay here as long as you want just...clean up before you leave.”

And with that, Tim started towards his bedroom. He only made it halfway there.

“What are your intentions towards Colin Wilkes?”

Tim froze, then slowly turned around. Damian had stood up and was shifting in place, scowling and looking anywhere but at Tim.

“What?”

Damian huffed, then glared briefly at him before looking away again. “Don't be coy, Drake. I've _seen_ you with him. On your... _dates_.”

Tim blinked. “Wait, _what_?”

“Do not insult my intelligence by denying it.”

Tim was _way_ too tired for this.

“No. Damian—no. I...Me and Colin are _friends_. We _hang out._ Those aren't—those aren't _dates_.” Tim frowned. “And how do you even know me and Colin hang out anyway? Are you _following_ me?”

“-tt!- As if I would ever waste my time following _you_.”

“You didn't answer the question.”

“Because you always show up in the same places Jason and I go for our dates!”

Damian flushed slightly, and now it was Tim's turn to glance away because, yeah, him and Colin _had_ been around Jason and Damian on a lot of their dates, but _Colin_ was the only one who actually meant to do that and—

“It's not my fault you started going on dates with Jason in places I go to on my own.”

“ _Please_. I am not _Grayson_ to be taken in by your lies and trickery.”

_ Lies and— _

“There is no reason why you would just ' _hang out'_ at an ice skating rink—”

“It helps me relax!”

“—during _couple's night—_ ”

“I didn't even know they _had_ a couple's night!”

“—and spend the _entire night_ skating with Wilkes if you were not on a date.”

Tim ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “We just ran into each other. He was there on his own—” _Following you two but I'm so not getting into that. Ever._ “—and he saw me and we started talking _like friends do_ and decided to go skating while we talked. It. It was a _friend outing_.”

“And since when are you even friends with Wilkes? He is _my_ friend. Not yours.”

Tim glared. “Well now he's my friend too. And maybe if you didn't ditch him so often to go see Jason—”

“You're even sticking up for him like he's your boyfriend!”

“I'm not—”

“And if you knew him as well as you claim to, you would know he has no problem with me going to see Jason.”

_And if you only knew_ why _he didn't have a problem with it..._ “Even if he doesn't, it's still not nice to leave your friend to go be with your boyfriend.”

_Oh god, I'm actually the one who ended up having this talk with him. I...Dick's the one who practically adopted him, not me. Dick!_

Damian narrowed his eyes. “What I do with my boyfriend and when I do it is none of your business.”

_Finally something we can agree on!_

Tim glared back. “And what I do with _my_ friend is none of yours!”

“Just admit you're dating an underage boy, Drake!”

“Is _that_ your problem with me being friends with Colin? That he's only fifteen? Do I even _need_ to point out the hypocrisy here?”

“So you finally admit it.”

Tim wanted to _scream_. “I'm not admitting anything! There's nothing _to_ admit.”

“The only reason to point out my age in relation to Colin's is if you're trying to make a point about Jason being in his twenties and having a relationship with me, and that is only hypocrisy if you're dating someone the same age as well!”

“That's not what I...” Tim growled. “ _Stop being so literal_.”

Damian raised an eyebrow.

Tim sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “If you are not dating Wilkes, then explain why you were holding his hand in the park last week.”

Tim flushed because, okay, they'd gotten more than a few questioning looks because of that from other people at the park, but—

“He had a rock in his shoe. I was holding his hand for _balance_ while he got it out because he doesn't always have the best center of gravity—” Damian snorted. “—and then once he got his shoe back on _he_ dragged _me_ over to the pond because he wanted to show me the swans. We were holding hands for two minutes, at most.”

“The swans,” Damian said flatly.

“Yes!”

“A boy takes you by the hand to go look at _swans_ , and you still think you weren't on a date?”

_ And when did you suddenly become the expert on dating?  _ “Yes.”

Damian fixed him with a look. “Does  _Wilkes_ know that?”

Tim blinked. “What?”

“Does Wilkes know you don't consider yourself his boyfriend? Because he seemed very happy to be looking at swans with you.”

“Colin's always happy!”

“No, he's not.”

“Well, he's always happy when he's with me.”

Damian's smirk was the  _definition_ of smug.

Tim froze.

_ Oh crap. _

Tim stamped down on the sudden panic—which _had_ to be what the sudden fluttering in his stomach was—that started to rise up inside him. There was no reason to panic. Because there was no way he'd been unknowingly dating Colin. None at all. Because. Because Colin would have _said something_.

Right?

Of course he was right. The whole idea of it was ridiculous. Colin was his friend. It didn't matter if he was _always_ smiling at Tim, or if he sometimes blushed when Tim smiled back, or if he seemed to go out of his way to touch Tim in little ways when he didn't strictly _need_ to and—

“Oh. _Crap_.”

Damian said something then, but Tim couldn't hear it over the sound of his heart _pounding_ in his ears. Had he actually been... _dating_ Colin? And for how long? Because they almost never _planned_ one of their outings, they just happened. Except...

“ _I had fun. You know. Talking and...stuff.”_

_ Tim smiled. “Me too.” _

“ _Yeah. We should maybe...do it again sometime?”_

“ _Yeah,” Tim answered. “I'd like that.”_

_ Colin beamed. “Great!” _

Was...was that Colin _asking him out_?

In hindsight, he thought it could be. In a slightly embarrassed, incredibly innocent _Colin_ way. And Tim had _accepted_ in a totally oblivious, utterly _Tim_ way and—

And.

And Tim had no idea where to go from there.

_ How do you even break up with someone when you didn't even know you were dating them? _

Because they couldn't date. That was just, out of the question. Tim didn't even _want_ to date Colin. They were _friends_ He liked being Colin's _friend_.

But.

He'd also kind of liked holding Colin's hand. Sure, that was probably because it had been so _long_ since he'd touched or been touched by anyone who wasn't either already in a relationship with someone else, part of his family, or trying to kill him, but he'd still felt a tiny pang of regret when Colin had let go. And he'd never had such easy and entertaining conversations with _anyone_ before, especially anyone he'd tried dating. Not that there had been much dating in the past... Well. Since Steph, really.

_ Wow. Has it really been that long? _

And then there were the times when Tim had been having the _worst day ever_ and just _talking_ to Colin had erased his stress like it was never even there. Heck, the entire way home tonight he'd been entertaining half-formed thoughts of checking to see if Colin was online, or maybe even giving him a call, if he didn't pass out before he could. And there was no way Tim could deny that Colin was adorable, with his red hair that looked like he'd tried cutting it himself, and his still-oversized flannel shirts, and the way he still carried Rory the bear around in his tattered backpack _wherever_ he went, and the way his blushes brought out his freckles and how even though he was fifteen he was the same height as Tim and he tended to hunch slightly so he could look up at Tim through his fringe and—

And maybe Tim kind of, sort of, might be slightly in love with him.

“ _Shit_.”

“Drake?” Damian sounded almost concerned. For _Tim_. Which was earth-shattering enough to break through the also earth-shattering realization that he had _those_ kinds of feelings for a _fifteen year old kid_.

“Oh my god. I'm a pedophile.”

“ _Drake_?”

Tim let out a shaky laugh that, upon reflection, was more of a strained _scream_. “I'm dating a fifteen year old boy. And even though I didn't _know_ I was until right now, and that _could_ have been an excuse if I ended it the second I figured it out, I _don't want to end it_ and, oh _Cthulhu,_ I'm going to every hell there _is_.”

“-tt- Superstitious nonsense.”

“Even if it is, I'm pretty sure _jail_ is close enough to hell to count.”

“Oh please. If you're going to jail for anything it will be for the rampant vigilantism, or your questionable business practices.”

“Hey! My business practices are completely above board—” Tim shut his mouth so hard his teeth clicked. “Even if I _don't_ go to jail, it's still _immoral_. I'm still a ped—”

Damian punched him in the chest.

“Ah! What—” 

“This self pity is despicable.” Damian glared up at him. “Tell me, do you think _Jason_ is a pedophile?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“And yet he is older than _you_ and he's dating someone _two months younger_ than Wilkes.”

“But that's—”

“What? It's different with Jason. _How_?”

Tim grimaced. “Because you're...mature, for your age. And Jason's kind of immature for his so...”

“You are even more of an idiot than I thought, Drake,” Damian spat. “If you think Wilkes isn't mature for his age just because he smiles and takes pleasure in life, then you do not deserve him.”

“Wh—”

“Just because he does not let his past grind him down does not mean he will ever be free from it. He has seen death, and he has known pain and torture and heartache and abandonment, just as I have. He will carry that legacy inside of him until the day he _dies_. If anything, being able to laugh openly despite his past is _exactly_ what shows his maturity, and if you refuse to see it then you do him a great disservice.”

Tim glanced away, more than a little ashamed, because Damian was right. Colin was a lot more than the bubbly, enthusiastic kid he was on the outside, and _Tim knew that_. And, maybe he was grasping at excuses, because he _still_ didn't feel completely comfortable with the idea of dating someone Colin’s age, but—

He really, really wanted to see what dating Colin was like when he actually _knew_ they were dating.

“Yeah. Okay. You're...you're right.”

“-tt- You say that as if it's somehow _surprising_.”

“But you're still a little brat.”

“And you're still the worst Robin.”

They shared a small, brief smile.

“Okay,” Tim said mostly to himself. “Okay. So. To recap. I've been dating Colin without my knowledge for almost a month now.”

“Correct.”

“I didn't know this because I thought we were friends.”

“Also correct, though I fail to see what this does to help—”

“I should 'break up' with him because he's fifteen and I'm almost ten years older than that.”

“Are you _still—_ ”

“ _But_ ,” Tim continued, the mild emphasis the only outward sign he'd even heard Damian. “I don't want to.”

He looked at Damian, who cocked his head. “You don't.”

“No,” Tim replied, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically because, well. Laugh, cry, all that. “I really don't.” He took a deep breath, trying to prepare mentally and physically for what he was about to do, then looked down at Damian beseechingly. “So what do I do?”

For his part, Damian seemed shocked Tim was asking for _his_ advice, but he quickly wiped the expression off his face. And if he maybe puffed his chest out a little, and stood a little straighter? Well. Tim doubted either one of them would ever mention it out loud.

“Simple.” And for once, there was no follow up insult about Tim's intelligence. “You date him.”

Tim blinked. “Just...date him? Just like that?”

“-tt- He already assumes you have _been_ dating, Drake. He obviously is not bothered by the idea.” A short pause. “As any sane person would be.”

The put down seemed kind of perfunctory, so Tim ignored it.

“But what if—”

“If you're going to stand there and lay out every possible thing that could go wrong one at a time while waiting for me to assuage your fears, you can stop now, because I will destroy your ability to speak.”

Tim did stop. Though not because of the threat. He had gotten good at ignoring most of Damian's threats. No, he stopped because Damian was actually one hundred percent right about what Tim was about to do, and he was more than a little embarrassed about it.

Well, that and the fact his fifteen year old, former assassin little brother was somehow more socially competent than he was.

“Okay then.” Tim nodded, mostly to himself. “I'll...date Colin.” And if that wasn't one of the more terrifying things he'd ever said out loud, he'd eat his cowl. “And now, I really, _really_ need sleep. So, if you don't mind, I'll just be...doing that. Now.”

Tim nodded to himself again.

“Drake,” Damian said when Tim started to turn away.

“Yes Damian?”

“If you hurt him, I will _end you_.”

And because this was Damian and he wasn't glaring or sneering, because there was nothing on his face except the blank surety of a person who would have no problem following through on a threat, Tim knew he was one hundred percent serious.

“Yeah, I know.” And because Tim was _Tim_ and this was _Damian,_ he couldn't help but add, “Dick would be _so_ proud of you right now.”

Damian scoffed. “Don't make me _vomit_.”

 


	12. Wherein Tim Attempts to Move From Accidental Dating, to Purposeful Dating

Tim's sweaty hand had a death grip on his phone. He tapped his foot impatiently on his kitchen tile, waiting as it rang.

“ _Damian Wayne.”_

“Has Colin ever dated before? Not that I'm jealous or anything if he has, I'm not trying to find out all about his sordid dating past, if he has a sordid dating past, can a fifteen year old even _have_ a sordid dating past? Don't answer that. I'm only asking—about the dating, not the question about fifteen year olds and their pasts—because I was wondering if maybe you knew what he likes to do on dates and if you knew about dates he's been on in the past—again, _not_ a general question about the possibly sordid dating pasts of the average fifteen year old Gothamite—um, if you know about his dates, then you might know what he likes or doesn't like and could maybe tell me because _I have no idea where to take Colin on our first date where we both know it's a date and—_ ”

“ _Drake! Cease your womanly fretting at once!”_

“But—”

“ _If you do not shut up right now, I'm hanging up and turning off my phone.”_

Tim was about ninety percent sure that was an idle threat since, even though Bruce had recently ended Jason's ban on being in the manor while Damian was there unless it was for patrol-related reasons, they still spent a great deal of their time talking to each other on the phone. And since Damian actually answered his call, he knew he wasn't either with Jason or talking to Jason, so he didn't think Damian was going to risk missing a call from his boyfriend by turning off his phone.

Still, he _really_ needed Damian's help, as much as that physically _hurt_ to admit, and he wasn't going to risk not getting it based on an utterly unacceptable ninety percent surety.

So Tim shut his mouth, and played with one of the belt loops on his jeans.

“ _Now before I answer your ridiculous question, I want you to know I'm only answering for my own sake, because if you ruin Wilkes' first real date then he will come crying to me and I will have to take time that could be better spent on anything else to sit on my bed while he clings to me like a parasite and ruins one of my shirts with his tears and mucus. Do you understand that?”_

Tim licked his lips, but stayed silent.

“ _You may speak now.”_

“Yes, I understand.”

“ _Good. As I said, Wilkes has never been on a date before, but he enjoys simple-minded, unrefined things, as proven by his interest in_ you _. He is also a romantic, so he will most likely find pleasure in any activity, as long as it isn't too extravagant, and you are with him. Just choose something simple that you both enjoy.”_

“But we've already _done_ everything simple that we both enjoy! We've talked about movies and games, we've _gone_ to the movies, we've watched swans in the park, we've gone out for coffee, we've—”

“ _Cease your list_ immediately _!”_

Tim clamped his mouth shut.

“ _You are both interested in ridiculous things. It shouldn't be too hard, even for someone handicapped with_ your _brain, to think of something to do. I've given you advice, so it should be even easier. Now go away and never call me again.”_

And with that, he hung up.

Tim stared blankly at the phone for a small eternity, debating whether or not he should try calling Damian back. Eventually, he slipped it into his pocket and took a deep breath.

_Okay. Simple. I can do simple. I can do one simple date with someone who already thinks we're dating._

Tim groaned.

 _And I have to pretend this_ isn't _a first date and that I've known we were dating the whole time, don't I?_

Tim...could do this. _He could_ _._ Because he was Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, the third Robin, the second—or is it third?—Red Robin, the man who Ra's al Ghul tells stories of to _frighten his assassins_. He's _trained with Shiva_.

He could handle a simple date with Colin Wilkes.

 

* * *

 

Colin greeted him with a bright smile and a wave as he pulled up in front of the orphanage on his motorcycle.

“Hey Timmy! Wow, that bike is awesome!” He cocked his head. “Why does your helmet look like the Red Hood?”

Tim swallowed heavily, refusing to lift up his visor because it exposed way too much of his face and he _knew_ he was blushing—

But Colin was really, really adorable.

Which he'd always thought, ever since the day Damian first brought him home, but now that he was actually acknowledging what he felt for the boy, he couldn't help noticing that he was kind of beautiful, too. It was the red hair and the pale skin, Tim thought. And the freckles. And the way the sun made his green eyes sparkle when he smiled—

_Wow, I have it bad. How did I ever get it this bad? I don't even get crushes. How did I go straight past crush to...this?_

Although he vastly preferred this _this_ to the other one.

“Y-yeah,” he answered, handing an identical helmet to Colin. “Um, Jason got them for me last month, then threw out my other ones.”

The other ones which _may_ have been black with little bat-ears on them.

Colin laughed, then swung his leg over the bike and _pressed himself up against Tim_ and, _wow, I really didn't think this over when I decided to take the bike, did I?_

“R-ready?” Tim asked, trying his hardest not to shift in any kind of _suggestive_ way.

Colin pulled the helmet down over his head, flipped up the visor, and gave Tim a thumbs up. “Ready!”

Even though the last thing Tim needed for his concentration was more of Colin pressed against him, he didn't say anything when he left the visor up and pressed his helmet-covered face into Tim's back instead. He knew how confining the expensive, full-headed helmets his family bought could feel even to someone who _didn't_ have a problem with enclosed spaces.

The ride was silent, aside from the roar of the custom built engine and the sounds of city traffic. Completely understandable when riding a bike, which is why Tim never mentioned that Jason had both helmets equipped with a closed comm system. He did _not_ trust his ability to drive a motorcycle and hold a conversation with Colin right then.

It took about twenty minutes, and some creative interpretations of road law, for them to reach the Gotham Aquarium. Colin hopped off the bike the moment Tim got it parked, taking off his helmet and bouncing in place.

“I'm so excited! I've never been to an aquarium before, especially one with an arctic animals exhibit. I followed Jay and Dami here once, but I didn't have enough money for a ticket...”

This was the fifteenth time he'd said something similar since Tim had invited him the other day, but Tim just smiled under his helmet and turned off the bike. He pulled his own helmet off, hoping his flushed cheeks would seem like they were because of the warm headgear, instead of the blush they actually were.

Colin frowned slightly, then looked down at his helmet. “Um, what do we do with these?”

“Just leave it on your seat.”

“Really? Won't someone steal them?”

“It'll be okay. Just put it on the seat.”

Colin did so, looking unsure the entire time, and Tim followed suit. He pressed a button on his keychain, and a soft electrical noise sounded from the motorcycle.

“Now try to pick it up.”

Colin glanced at him, then tried to take his helmet back.

“It's stuck to the seat.”

Tim nodded. “The helmets are coated with a special alloy. It looks exactly like fiberglass, but when you put an electric charge through it it sticks to whatever it's touching like superglue.”

“That seems pretty complicated for a bike helmet.” Despite his words, Colin was grinning, clearly impressed. Tim couldn't help smiling back, even though he knew his cheeks were just getting redder.

“Well, it was originally made for...other things.”

Like the hubcaps on the Batmobile. Something Jason no doubt got a huge kick out of when he used it on his helmets.

The air around them grew tense as they made their way to the ticket counter, and then into the aquarium itself. At least, it did for Tim. If Colin noticed, he never commented. He just bounced on the balls of his feet as he read through the exhibit map, trying to decide where to go first.

“Ooooh! They have penguins! We've gotta see the penguins. And polar bears! I saw a documentary on polar bears a few night ago and—”

Tim was glad Colin seemed to have no shortage of things to say about polar bears, because Tim's throat was so dry he doubted he could manage a single word. Which was stupid, because this _wasn't their first date_. He should just be able to act like he usually would when they hung out and Colin would never know the difference because he _already thought they were dating_.

Still, as logical as that was, Tim remained tongue tied as he trailed along behind Colin. Because, even though Colin had _thought_ they were dating, he'd never really _acted_ like they were together, aside from a few innocent touches and a few-too-many smiles. And Tim...

Tim wanted all of that, and more.

Not that he wanted to jump into bed with Colin. Just the thought sent his face aflame and had him glancing around for cops because he was sure if they saw him they'd know exactly what kind of impure thoughts he was having about an _underage boy_. Also, Tim wasn't a tramp. He needed a solid, emotional base in a relationship before he'd go to bed with someone. Theoretically anyway, because none of his relationships had ever actually gotten that far...

So. No dirty thoughts for Tim.

No, what he wanted were the couply things he saw everyday from people on the streets, from movies and TV, heck, even from Jason and Damian. He wanted the hand holding and the surprise kisses. He wanted to put his jacket around Colin when he was cold, and for Colin carry to an extra pair of gloves in winter because he knew Tim _always_ forgot his. He wanted secret looks and uncontrollable smiles every time their eyes met. And he wanted this stupid aquarium date to be the start of all that.

He just had no idea how to actually _start_ the starting.

“So, what do you wanna see first, Timmy?”

Tim almost tripped over his own feet at the sudden direct question. “U-um.” He licked his lips. “Whatever you wanna see?”

Colin cocked his head, glancing at Tim from under his unevenly cut bangs. “Are you okay?”

Tim smiled and—god he hoped it looked reassuring instead of the pained grimace it felt like. “Of course. I'm...” _Here with you, aren't I? Say that, Tim. That's a pretty smooth line, right?And it had the added bonus of being totally true._ “...fine. Really.”

Colin studied him for a few moments. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Very sure.”

Colin still seemed a little skeptical, but apparently decided to believe him. “Good.” He grinned. “So, we should probably do the jellyfish and the shark tunnel first, because if I get to the penguins that's pretty much gonna be it for like, an hour. And maybe we can get to see them feed the sharks _and_ the penguins if we're lucky.”

This time, Tim's smile was a bit more genuine. How could it not be, in the face of such endearing excitement? “Sounds like a plan.”

At the very least, Tim thought thirty minutes later as they stood in a crowd and watched as aquarium employees threw chunks of bloody meat into the shark tanks, Colin was having an amazing time on their date. He didn't think Colin's wide-eyed grin had faded since the moment they'd reached the first exhibit. If it had, Tim was pretty sure he would have noticed, because he'd been spending way more time watching _Colin_ than any of the fish. The other boy seemed so enthralled that Tim doubted if he'd even notice if Tim held his hand, or put his arm around his waist, or any one of the half dozen other small, intimate gestures he kept trying to talk himself into just _going for already you big wuss!_

“This should probably really freak me out,” Colin said as one of the smaller sharks tore into a bloody chunk of...something that was way too big for it. “But it's like, I can't stop looking away, you know?”

Tim stared at the side of Colin's face. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.”

Colin glanced at him, then, and his grin softened into a smile. Tim couldn't help smiling back, and Colin flushed slightly and glanced away.

“So, um.” Colin paused, and took a deep breath. “I should probably tell you that I talked to Dami a few nights ago. He told me. About, you know. You thinking we were just friends and me being the only one thinking we were going out.”

An icy claw grabbed at Tim's heart, because if that's all Damian said then Colin _still thought that—_ ”

“No! It's not—I mean—”

Colin slipped his hand into Tim's and gave it a squeeze, stopping his words in their tracks.

“I know,” he said, glancing back at Tim with a tiny, pleased smile. “He told me the other part too, about you wanting to date me, and this being our first date, and how adorably nervous you were about trying to figure out what to do—”

“He did _not_.”

Colin giggled. “Well, no. He didn't actually _say_ it. But he did describe it, and even filtered through Damian-vision, it sounded pretty cute.”

Tim sighed, because 'cute' was...pretty nice, but if he couldn't even get someone as sweetly adorable as Colin to think of him as, oh, 'ruggedly sexy', he figured it was probably never going to happen.

Colin squeezed his hand again. “So, you don't need to be nervous, or embarrassed, or, you know, anything. If that's what the problem is. I don't...I'm totally okay with this being our first date.”

Tim took a deep, shuddering breath as a weight seemed to lift itself off his shoulders. Because that...that was exactly what he'd needed to hear.

“Really?” he asked, and—thank freaking _god—_ he sounded like himself again.

Colin nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Tim grinned, and shifted their clasped hands so their fingers laced together, exactly how he'd wanted them to be all afternoon. “Good.”

Colin returned his grin. “Good.”

Needless to say, they both missed the rest of the shark feeding. Strangely enough, neither one of them seemed too upset about that.

“So,” Tim asked as they made their way towards the arctic exhibit. “Enjoying the aquarium?”

“Of course! It's amazing!” He paused. “And even if I wasn't,” he added, blushing brightly, “I'm here with you, so it would still be perfect.”

Tim's heart fluttered in his chest, and he felt his own cheeks—which had finally cooled down, flare back up again and— _I knew that line was a winner._

But he had to admit, Colin probably pulled it off a lot better than he would have.

Which was good, because it gave Tim something to hold on to when they finally reached the penguins and Colin seemed to _completely forget he existed_ for almost exactly an hour. Although, Tim really didn't mind as much as he could have, because if Colin-by-the-sharks was adorably enthusiastic, Colin-by-the-penguins was one wide-eyed, under-the-breath squeak away from exploding. Also, Colin never once let go of his hand. Which meant Tim spent a lot more time being dragged around more than he ever had in his life to find the “best spots to watch”. Not that _Tim_ needed a better spot than right where he was, because the only thing he was watching was still Colin.

He did notice them getting more than a few looks from some of the teenagers and parents at the exhibit, and Tim had a few moments of worry-panic-shame as he wondered what they saw when they looked at the two of them. Two boys on a date? An older brother being tolerantly indulgent of his younger brother? A pervert taking a boy to the aquarium to butter him up for a molesting?

It didn't happen often, not nearly enough to ruin the date for Tim anyway, and it never lasted for long. Because even though Colin hadn't taken his eyes off the penguins once, he seemed to somehow know when Tim was starting to freak out a bit, and gave his hand a squeeze, or leaned into him, or rested his head on his shoulder. And like magic, Tim forgot about anything that wasn't Colin.

All in all? Best first date ever.

Sadly though, even the best things come to an end, and eventually the aquarium closed and they found themselves back on the bike, heading towards the orphanage. This time, Tim told Colin about the comms, and so he was treated to an excited running commentary of everything Colin had liked about their day together the whole way back.

Tim had never smiled so much in his _entire life_.

Colin had quieted by the time Tim pulled up in front of the orphanage. He wasted little time getting the helmet off after they stopped, but hesitated before getting off the bike, giving Tim's waist a little squeeze as he did.

“So...” Colin flushed slightly, looking at the ground.

Tim swallowed and took his own helmet off. “So...”

“So I had a really, really good time...but I think you kind of already got that.” Colin laughed nervously.

“So did I,” Tim said softly, trying so hard not to _stare_ at Colin's lips.

Colin smiled. “Good. I mean, I kind of ignored you for the penguins, so I'd totally understand if you were bored, but...” He licked his lips. “I'm glad you weren't.”

“Me too.”

A long period of silence stretched between them.

“Well.” Tim shifted on the bike. He didn't want to leave, not yet, but he couldn't think of anything to say to extend their time together either. “I should—”

Colin kissed him.

It was quick, barely a peck before he backed away, blushing furiously, but Tim's lips still tingled.

 _Kissing Steph was_ nothing _like that._

“Um. Yes.” Colin nodded, looking anywhere but at Tim. “Okay. I—”

And that was as far as he got, because Tim was very familiar with the body language of somebody on the cusp of turning and _running_ , and he wasn't about to have any of that. He grabbed Colin by the arm and pulled him in, leaning over to press their lips together.

Colin stiffened, and Tim had a single, horrible moment where he thought he was about to be pushed away before he relaxed into Tim and started to kiss back.

As far as kisses went, they stayed pretty innocent. They never even opened their mouths. Which was fine. More than fine. Because Tim was all about going slow, but if he actually felt Colin's tongue right then he had no idea how many of his dating rules he'd be willing to throw out the window. Colin's slightly chapped lips were tempting enough.

“Wow,” Colin breathed after they parted. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and only then did Tim realize that must have been his first kiss. Still. He couldn't help feeling smug as the reception it was getting. “You're really, really good at that.”

Tim shot him a small, slightly bashful grin. “Thanks. You're, uh, you were pretty good too.”

“Really?” Tim nodded. Colin beamed. “Wanna do it again?”

“Yes please.”

So they did. And if a few orphanage windows suddenly grew a few extra pairs of eyes, and if a few passersby slowed down to stare, and if a very irate nun stormed out the door, only to be pulled back in by a different nun who gave the boys a small, yet warm, smile...well.

They were both much too busy to notice.

(Except Tim actually noticed everything. Because. _Tim sees all._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like 85% sure I stole Damian's "womanly fretting" line from someone else's fic, but I can't remember who or which fic it was. So if you ever wrote something like that and posted it on here, thanks for coming up with something I liked enough to remember and plan out a whole scene around b^_^


	13. What's Even the Point of Locking Anything? or; Why Tim Supports the Castle Doctrine

“Tim, we need to talk.”

Tim stopped typing, spun around in his chair, and frowned.

“Jason?” _How did Jason get in my apartment? Better question—_ “Did you just call me Tim?”

“I—”

“Not 'babybird' or 'replacement' or 'princess'—” Not that Tim understood how that last one stuck. Or, rather, he did, but really it was _one_ time and it was for a charity Titans Cosplay event and he wasn't even the one who picked the theme and it's not like he was the _only one wearing it—_ “or even 'Timmers', but Tim? As in, my _actual_ _first name_ Tim?”

Jason scowled. “Yeah. I called you Tim.”

Tim's heart stopped. “What happened?”

“We—”

“Oh god, you found someone dead, didn't you? Is it Alfred? No, you'd be crying if it was. Bruce? Did Bruce die for real this time?” Tim shot to his feet. “Was it a Titan? Was it _all_ _the Titans?_ ”

“For fucks sake replacement, nobody died. Shut the _fuck_ _up_ for a second okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

Tim glared at him at his heart rate slowed to something approaching normal. “Then what the heck is up with calling me Tim? Don't scare me like that.”

He tried to hit Jason, but he was a bit stiff from being in front of his computer for the past eight hours, and Jason seemed to be expecting it. He calmly stepped back to avoid the punch, then raised an eyebrow—he was apparently sans helmet tonight, though the rest of the Red Hood gear was definitely present, guns included—and patiently waited for any follow up attacks. Since Tim was kind of in the middle of something—this critique of the latest season of Fear the Walking Dead wasn't going to write _itself—_ and he wanted to get back to it sooner rather than later, none were forthcoming.

“So why are you here?” he asked.

Jason fixed him with an incredibly unimpressed look. “We found your blog.”

Tim blinked. “My...blog?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean...my Tumblr? Or my LiveJournal? Because I haven't touched the LiveJournal since I was fourteen and I don't even remember what's on it—” _Lies lies filthy lies I remember everything I wish I could forget I was so embarrassing as a teenager—_ “and you aren't allowed to make fun of me for things I don't remember writing.”

“Your Tumblr.”

Tim bit back his sigh of relief. “Oh. Okay then. Um. _Why_ does that get me a break in, though? Are you mad because I reblog stuff that makes fun of the Real Housewives of Gotham? Because I thought you were still pretending you didn't watch it religiously—”

“I mean your other Tumblr.” A heartbeat's pause, and then, “And I don't watch that stupid Housewives show.”

“Mmm hmm,” Tim hummed skeptically. Then frowned. “Wait, what other Tumblr? I only have the one.”

“Tim. Don't even try. We've seen it.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“That weird-ass stalker blog where you follow us around on dates and take pictures of us?”

Tim coughed. “Wait, _what?_ ”

“Yeah. Did you think we'd never find it? You tag everything with our names, idiot.”

“No—that's not—you don't understand. That's not my blog.”

“Tim—”

“No, it's not mine. That blog isn't mine. I. No. _Why_ would I—”

“Oh come _on._ We've seen you in the exact same place we're going on a date way too many times, and it's not like stalking people and taking pictures is out of character for you.”

“First of all, I was nine. Second, it's not my page it's Colin's!”

Jason crossed his arms. “Blaming your boyfriend? Really not cool, babybird.”

“No. No. _No._ I am _not_ getting relationship critique from the guy who thinks it's a good idea to be sleeping with the _son of Batman_ in his own house. You. _No._ And I'm not even doing anything wrong because _it's really Colin's blog_. Look, most of these posts are from before I even _knew_.”

“You could have been pretending you didn't know.”

“ _Why would I do that?_ I wanted to cut my _brain_ out when I found out. You were there. You had to have seen the look of _disgust and horror_ on my face when you stormed by. You're not stupid and I wasn't exactly trying to hide it.”

“'Disgust and horror'?”

“Yes!”

“He is not lying." Damian, in full Robin gear, materialized from the shadows behind Jason as he spoke. Tim most definitely _did not scream._  "I recognized the look that night, even if it _is_ hard to notice any expression on a face that hideous and malformed.”

“You _wish_ you had my cheekbones.”

“Mounted on a wall, along with the rest of your head, perhaps.”

“Okay, new rule,” Jason cut in, “you're only allowed to talk if you _don't_ have a gun pointed at your head.”

Coincidentally, both Tim and Damian now had one of Jason's guns pointed at their heads. Tim tensed, both from the fact that he was staring down the barrel of a gun, and because he really didn't want to be in the middle of the inevitable fight when Damian attacked Jason for drawing on him—

But instead of attacking, Damian just shot Jason a look of pure tolerant indulgence and regally gestured for him to continue.

“So you don't think it's babybird's blog anymore?”

He holstered the gun pointing at Damian.

“He has seemed more or less consistently bothered by our relationship. If it _were_ his, I would expect most of those pictures to be edited crudely in an amateurish attempt to pass them off as real and embarrass us. Instead of—”

“Looking like a twelve year old girl's One Direction blog?”

“Exactly.”

“So you think it's Colin's?

Damian thought for a moment. “It _does_ seem like something Wilkes might do.”

Jason sighed. “Okay. Guess we gotta go terrorize babybird's boyfriend then.”

“ _Don't you—_ ”

“Ah, ah!” Jason waved the gun at Tim. “Remember the rules.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything else, Damian dissolved back into the shadows.

“Well.” Jason smirked. “Guess we're leaving.”

He put his other gun away, then took a running leap out a window Tim _knew_ hadn't been open the last time he took a short break from the internet. He stared after them for a moment, admiring their impressive stealth work, before scrambling towards the secret room behind his linen closet where he stored his suit.

Maybe if he hurried, he could get to the orphanage before they gave his boyfriend a whole new set of phobias.


	14. Wherein Nice Things are Ruined, and Tim Has to Glue Them Back Together

Tim was really going to have to invest in a better security system.

“Jason,” he said, unable to keep the exasperation from his voice as he dropped his briefcase to the floor. “What are you doing here?”

Jason, on his back on Tim's couch with his arm thrown over his eyes, mumbled something incoherent.

“No. Seriously. You can't just—” He paused, noticing the two duffel bags set by the end of the couch and— “Are those _beer bottles_ all over my floor? Empty...well, they better be empty, because those are mahogany floors—” He shook his head, leaving off the fact that he didn't even _buy_ beer, so Jason had to have brought it over because that wasn't what was important right now. “Jason, what's going on? What are in those bags?”

Jason's arm fell to the floor with a loud thump, revealing—to Tim's utter _lack_ of surprise—two bloodshot eyes. “I'm not drunk yet, babybird.”

Tim blinked. “O—kay.” Not that he believed that for a second. “And how does that answer my question?”

“Question?” Jason smirked. “You askin' me to marry you, babybird? Thought you were dating that onion...often...orphanage!”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose so hard he thought he heard a crack. “I'm so not in the mood for this. What—”

“So, since I'm not drunk yet, it totally wouldn't be taking advantage if we fucked.”

“ _What_?”

“Come on.” Jason rearranged himself, slowly, into what almost looked like a seductive pose. Almost being the key word, because his shirt was stained with what Tim dearly hoped was just spilled beer, and his face was covered with dried tear streaks. “You know you wanna.”

“Jason...” Tim pursed his lips. He was...really starting to get worried. And since it looked like he wasn't about to get any answers from his intoxicated brother, he went over and unzipped the bags. “Clothes?”

“Can't live without clothes.” He leered. “But we could try, if you want.”

Tim looked through the second bag. “Half of these clothes are Damian's...”

Jason stilled. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He scowled at the ceiling. “Burn 'em.”

Now Tim was _definitely_ worried.

“Jay...what happened? Is Damian...okay?”

“ _Fuck_ Damian.” Jason let out a bitter laugh. “Nah, already did that. Wanna fuck you, now.”

“No. You don't. You’re drunk and upset and you're deflecting.” He stood up and crossed his arm over his chest. “And I'm assuming Damian has something to do with why. Did you two get in a fight?”

Jason scowled at Tim this time. “If we're not gonna fuck, then get out.”

“This is my apartment.”

Jason blinked. “Oh. It is?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Oh, why am I...?” He scrunched up his face for a moment, then brightened. “Oh yeah, because I'm living here now.”

“... _what_.”

“Yup,” Jason said, popping his lips on the 'p'. “Nowhere else to go. Dickie'll take _his_ side, Bruce hates me, Cass is...somewhere? Babs lives in a _clock_. Steph is too loud. You're all I've got left, babybird. No one else wants me.”

“Okay,” Tim said, talking mostly to himself. “Okay, something happened with Damian.” He paused as Jason let out a string of curses at the name. “Obviously. And you're way too hammered to tell me what. Okay.” He nodded to himself. “Wait here.”

Jason said something, but Tim ignored him and went into his kitchen. He pulled a bottle of water out of his fridge, wrinkling his nose as the three _cases_ of beer Jason had apparently shoved in between the water, soda, and Tim's food for the week, before taking a quick detour into his “workroom”, dropping a pill into the water and going back out to his living room.

“Here.” He thrust the bottle into Jason's hand. “Drink this. It'll make you feel better.”

Jason snorted. “That's what the beer is for, babybird. Keep up.”

Tim sighed. “I'll have sex with you if you drink it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Jason seemed to consider it for a moment, then looked at Tim with a confused little frown tugging at his lips. “You weren't supposed to say yes?”

“Oh for—” Tim growled. “ _Drink the_ _fucking water Jason._ ”

Jason blinked rapidly. Then, without another word, downed the water.

He passed out before he was halfway through.

Tim scowled. The sedatives should have worked a _lot_ faster than that. Still, at least now maybe he could get some real answers.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his small list of contacts before pressing Send. It only rang five times before it was answered. A new record.

“ _Tim, thank god!”_ Dick's panicked voice came through the speaker. _“Look, I know you were supposed to have tonight off, but I really need you to cover patrol for me, it's an emergency.”_

Tim blinked. “What? No. I—”

“ _Tim,_ please _.”_

Tim frowned. This was why he rarely called people. Still, Dick seemed really freaked out by something... “What's wrong? Is everybody okay? Is it Alfred?” Because that _would_ explain Jason...although not why he seemed to be so mad at Damian—

“ _No. Yes. No. I mean, Alfred's fine, but Damian isn't and I have no idea where Jason is—”_

“What's wrong with Damian?” Tim cut in.

“ _He's...”_ Dick took a long, shuddering breath, and that's when Tim knew something serious was going on. Dick didn't even _try_ to tease him about “being concerned about the 'demon-spawn'.” _“I don't know. He's...he's_ crying _.”_

“He's... Like with actual tears?”

He could have sworn Damian didn't even have tear ducts.

“ _Yeah. It's...he's just sitting on his bed staring at the wall. He's not even moving, just...crying silently. He won't answer any of my questions, and I can't get a hold of Jason anywhere and...I'm really worried. What if...”_

Dick couldn't even finish the thought, and Tim had a pretty good idea why. He thought something happened to Jason, and Tim guessed Jason being hurt—or worse—was pretty high on Dick's list of reoccurring nightmares.

“Jason's fine. Well. Not _fine_ , but he's okay. Physically.”

“ _You've seen Jason?! When? Where is he? Did he say—”_

“He's passed out drunk on my couch.”

There was a long silence.

“ _He's_ what _?”_

“Yeah.” Tim sighed. “I think he and Damian had a fight. He said some...things and...yeah. Sounds like neither one of them is taking it well.”

Dick made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a scream. It was a noise Tim knew very well, but it was so strange hearing it come from someone else for a change.

“ _You mean I've been fighting off a heart attack for the last_ hour _because Jay and Dami had a fight and they_ can't handle it _?”_

“Sounds like it.”

More silence.

“ _Is Jason likely to wake up anytime soon?”_

Tim hesitated. “No.” Hopefully he could leave it at that and not have to explain how he gave a sedative to a guy whose stomach was probably at least 75% alcohol by this point.

“ _I can't even...Okay. Fine. I'm bringing Dami over tomorrow, we can sort this all out then. I really need to go beat the crap out of some bad guys now.”_

“No! Wait—” But it was too late, Dick had already hung up.

“...why can't you just stop by and take Jason home _with you_?”

Aside from a loud snore from Jason's direction, his apartment had no answers.

 

* * *

 

Tim had really been hoping that Jason would sleep all the way up until Dick got there, but of course he couldn't even have that. It was fine at first. Jason was pretty wrecked when he got up, a combination of the hangover and the aftereffects of one of Tim's less gentle sedatives. The worst he did was groan at Tim to be quiet, groan at Tim to turn the lights off, and pathetically demand that Tim make him coffee.

The problem was, Jason had always been quick to recover, and once he did, it was all Tim could do to keep him from crawling out the window and disappearing into the sunrise. Which was how the rest of the morning went.

At least, until Dick finally showed up, dragging a scowling Damian behind him. Apparently Dick had learned well from the Bruce School of Dealing With Issues and hadn't told Damian they were going to see Jason, because the moment they saw each other he froze, then tried his best to fight his way out of the apartment. He almost got away, too, if only because halfway through helping to restrain him Tim noticed Jason trying to slip out the window again, and had to scramble over to him, leaving Dick to handle the demon spawn on his own.

It took a half an hour for Dick and Tim to get the other two to calm down, and once they did they both sat down—Damian in Tim's desk chair, Jason on his couch—and refused to speak, Damian staring at the floor and Jason with his arms crossed, glaring at the wall to his left.

It might have been cute, if this wasn't supposed to be _Tim's day to sleep in_.

At least Dick seemed to be taking charge of this whole thing.

“Okay guys, you're both acting like children.”

Neither one of them so much as moved.

“This is ridiculous. Come on, what could be so bad that you don't even wanna look at each other?”

Silence.

“Did you have a fight?”

Nothing.

“Did you break up?”

More nothing.

“Did one of you...hurt someone?”

That got a disgusted scoff from Damian and a glare from Jason. Of course, they both looked up at the same time and accidentally made eye contact. Jason immediately looked away again, but Damian, just for a moment, looked like he was about to speak.

Then he huffed, and went back to staring at the floor.

Dick dropped his head into his hands.

“Look,” he said. “There's a serious problem here and nobody is leaving this apartment until we figure this out.” Tim started to protest, but Dick cut him off with a glare of his own. “ _No one._ ”

Tim scowled and crossed his arms. “I do what I want.”

Everyone ignored him.

“You two have the sweetest relationship—”

“-tt!-”

“—and I'm not going to let you throw it away over a stupid fight.”

He looked back and forth between them. Still nothing.

“All right,” Dick said. “I didn't wanna do this, but you forced my hand.”

Without warning, Dick sprang into action, leaping at Damian and wrapping his arms around him as he tackled him to the floor.

“ _Grayson wha—_ ”

“Therapy hugs! We're hugging until you're not mad anymore! Tim! Get Jason!”

Tim raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jason.

“If you touch me, I'll rip your head off, replacement.”

“Good luck with that,” Tim said to Dick.

“ _Tim_. Hug Jason right now or I'm showing Colin those pictures I found on your computer.”

Tim choked. “ _You said you didn't download them!_ ”

“I lied! Now hug.”

“I'm not even kidding. Touch me and die.”

“I saved _all of them_.”

Tim sighed.

“Sorry,” he said to Jason. “I'd rather die. Besides, you didn't seem to have any problem with the idea of touching me last night.”

Jason sputtered. “But—”

“ _Todd_!” Damian's snarl was slightly less effective while Dick was wrapped around him like an octopus, but Jason still flinched. “What is he talking about?”

“Noth—”

“He got drunk on my couch and propositioned me.”

Dick's eyes widened almost at the exact same time Damian's narrowed. Tim was pretty sure Dick's rapid head shaking was some kind of hint that he shouldn't have said anything, and maybe he'd just made everything a whole lot worse, but they _were_ talking to each other again.

“It wasn't serious!” Jason protested. He seemed to catch himself right after, though, and crossed his arms, scowling. “And why do you care anyway? You made it pretty clear you don't want anything to do with me. So what if I wanna fuck someone else?”

“ _What_?” Damian gaped at him. “I did no such thing! _You_ were the one who denigrated our relationship!”

“I didn't fucking do anything!”

“You called me a _child_!”

“I said you were _acting like a child_. And you called _me_ a pedophile!”

Tim made a sound that was halfway between a choke and a hysterical giggle.

Damian's death glare was the stuff of legends. “ _Shut up Drake_.”

“After the whole 'it's okay to date Colin because the age difference between me and Jason is bigger and Jason isn't a pedophile' thing, I don't think I'm going to.” Damian tried to take a step towards him, seeming to forget that Dick had him trapped.

“Release me at once, Grayson! He must die.”

“That's not gonna happen, Little D,” Dick said, somehow managing to sound both soothing and scolding at the same time.

Damian snarled, but surprisingly didn't say anything else. Tim took advantage of the momentary silence.

“You want the truth?” he asked. “You're _both_ being children. So you had a fight. And you both said stupid, hurtful things to each other that you didn't even mean. _Who cares?_ How is that any different from how you both treat everyone else? Heck, how is that any different from how you _used to treat each other_? It's not, that's how. The only difference is you're both some kind of weird, science fiction fantasy couple who somehow didn't have their first fight until they've been together for _eleven months_.” Which was almost longer than all of Tim's relationships _combined_ and that was totally not something he wanted to dwell on right then. Or ever. “The only reason you haven't made up yet is because you're both too stubborn to admit that you _both_ might have handled it like the _big floppy idiots_ you are.”

He took a deep breath, somewhat surprised that no one had taken the opportunity to cut in.

“Look. You're both—and I can't believe I'm even saying this—but you're both _good_ for each other. Jason, you haven't even gone out with live bullets in half a year, and you're actually holding civil conversations with Bruce now _don't even open your mouth to lie about it I've seen you on the security footage._ And Damian, you act like a real boy now, complete with healthy social interactions with your friends and family and _don't even try Colin tells me everything_.”

Jason and Damian both crossed their arms and glared sulkily at Tim.

“And on top of how good you are for each other, you've apparently been together for almost a year. Do either of you have any idea how rare that is in our line of work? _Especially_ in this family?” He winced, slightly, knowing what he was about to say was going to sound horribly sappy and everyone in this room was going to make fun of him for it at some point in the next month. “What you two have is special. It's weird in a _lot_ of ways, yeah, but it's still special. And if you're going to throw it away because you can't control the garbage you say to people when someone pisses you off, then you're both deserve to be miserable. And I'll lose any respect I have for both of you.”

Tim glared back and forth at the both of them, _willing_ them to actually listen to him for once because, okay he admittedly wanted this over and everybody out of his apartment, but he also believed everything he said. And he wasn't even the only one who thought so, because Dick, Steph, Cass, Babs and five hundred Tumblr followers took way too much pleasure from watching them and talking about their relationship.

And even Tim might have found some of their dates _almost_ cute.

He almost collapsed in relief when Damian relaxed in Dick's arms.

“-tt-” He glanced at Tim, his eyes shining with confusion and hope and maybe even a grudging iota of gratitude, for just a moment before looking away. “As if I cared about your respect.”

Jason didn't say anything. He didn't look at Tim either, which was completely okay, because he _was_ staring at Damian with an expression of regret and love that was so open and unguarded it almost took Tim's breath away.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

Damian started. He looked up at Jason, and swallowed heavily before going back to staring at the floor. “I...apologize as well,” he muttered.

Jason took a few steps forward, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach out to Damian. “I didn't...he said yes. You know, when I was drunk. And I didn't even try. I didn't want to. I just...”

“Thought it would hurt me just to ask.”

Jason winced, but nodded. “I don't even know how you were supposed to find out, but...yeah.”

Damian lifted his head, looking at Jason again, but this time steeled his spine so he wouldn't look away. “That is why I called you...what I called you. I know you are not. And I've never thought you were. Not for a moment.”

Jason smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I know. Knew it when I didn't wake up with a sword in my gut the first time we slept together. Kinda hard to think clearly when I'm pissed though.”

“And drunk,” Damian added, because really, hoping he'd be able to resist was probably too much to ask.

Thankfully, Jason just laughed. “Yeah. And drunk.”

“You do not have the best coping mechanisms.”

“I don't think either of us do.”

Damian conceded the point with a short nod. He squirmed, and Dick let him go.

“Come. Let us return home, Jason.”

Tension that Tim hadn't even realized was there seemed to bleed out of Jason's body as Damian said his name. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “Yeah. Let's do that.”

They made their way to Tim's door without acknowledging either him or Dick. Just before they left, Tim saw Damian shyly slide his hand into Jason's, who held on like he was terrified Damian might float away if he let go as they closed the door behind them.

Dick ran his fingers through his hair, staring at Tim in total, slack-jawed, Grayson _awe_. “Wow... Timmy. You...that was amazing.”

Tim snorted and flipped his hair. “You say that like you're actually surprised.”

Dick chuckled. “You've been spending way too much time around Dami, lately.”

“No, I've been spending too _little_ time around Colin. He does a great Damian impression.”

“ _Awww_!” Dick cooed. “That's so adorable!”

“ _No_.”

“What? I didn't even—”

“You were between two and four seconds away from trying to get me to bring Colin around the manor so you could hug him and squish his face and stroke his hair and _he's my boyfriend not your pet and this so isn't happening_.”

“What about dinner tomorrow if I promise to keep my hands to myself?” Dick asked without skipping a beat or even trying to deny what Tim said.

“ _Absolutely not_.”

“Aw, why not?”

“For _so many reasons_.” He sent a sharp look towards Dick so he'd know 'Dick Grayson's stupid face' was most definitely one of those reasons.

“I promise I'll be good.”

“You forget. I know you.” Dick opened his mouth, but Tim kept going. “Besides. Colin is scared of Bruce, and I'm not forcing him to endure an entire dinner under the full force of one of Batman's—” He lowered his voice into a pretty passable imitation of the Bat-rumble“—'do you actually think you're worthy of having one of my precious boys glance in your direction on a regular basis, mortal' glares. No way. Not happening.”

Dick pouted. An expression that _should_ look absolutely ridiculous on a grown man, but somehow he always managed to make it seem endearing. “What if I got Bruce to promise he'd behave?”

Tim laughed so hard he almost fell over.

“Fine.” Dick started to sulk. Then, almost if some _idiot_ flipped a switch, he perked up. “Maybe I'll just start showing up on your dates then.”

Tim's laughter _died screaming_.

“No. _No._ No, Dick. No to the power of _infinity squared._ By the endless abyss which spawned the Great Old Ones, _no_.”

But Dick wasn't listening. He was already out the door cackling to himself by the time Tim had uttered his third 'no'. Tim gave chase, running out his door with one of Jason's beer bottles in his hand, because he'd never been fast enough to _catch_ Dick, but he could sure as all that was holy clip him in the back of the head and _knock his ass down to Funky Town._

(Spoiler alert: He tripped, missed wide, broke a window across the street, and spent the rest of his morning filling out insurance forms.)


	15. No Matter What Anyone Says, Tim's Not a Lesbian Either

“So I'm a lesbian now.”

Tim didn't even bother glaring at his brand new, Oracle-approved security system. He didn't even so much as pause in his typing. Because honestly? It didn't even matter. He already had three different apartments just waiting to be moved into as soon as the next Crisis happened so  everyone would be too distracted to notice him leaving.

“I don't think that's how it works, Steph.” He frowned at the PowerPoint project he was putting together. “Is it wrong to tell someone they're being fired via bar graph?”

“That's how it worked for you.”

“I've never been fired. Unless the Robin thing counts. Either way, no bar graphs were involved.”

“What? No. I mean the lesbian thing.”

“I'm not a lesbian though.” He deleted the graph. _I should change it to a pie chart..._

“You might as well be,” she said, flopping down on his couch. He heard the swish of a cape, so she was apparently skipping out on patrol for this conversation. “That piece of jailbait you're dating is kinda pretty, if you're into the whole freckles and red hair thing. And he blushes more than you do.”

“If you're trying to say that being pretty and blushing makes Colin a girl, then wouldn't that just make me straight?”

He decided to make the part of the chart representing the guy he was going to fire a bright, cheerful yellow. Maybe it would help soften the blow.

“Oh please. You've been an honorary girl for the last three years.”

Tim frowned again. “What does that even mean? And why are you only just telling me now? It's almost like you just made that up off the top of your head.”

“It doesn't matter,” she said. “What matters is me being a lesbian now.”

“I'm still pretty sure you can't just declare yourself a lesbian.”

“Why not?”

“Because. You sort of need to be born that way.” Tim finished up his slide, and moved onto the next one. He wondered if it would be appropriate to add a tiny little mushroom cloud with a frowny face surrounded by even tinier skeletons to represent the utter financial ruin WE would suffer if they didn't fire the cheerful yellow slice of pie. “Or at least go to a party college for a few months.”

A short pause, then, “Aren't you even gonna ask  _why_ I'm a lesbian now?”

“I hadn't considered it, no. B's gonna be angry, by the way.”

“About me being a lesbian?”

“About you skipping patrol to talk to me about it. And trying to distract me from this. Bruce pulled me off rotation tonight so I could be ready for the board meeting tomorrow.”

“What are you even doing, anyway?”

“Writing up a PowerPoint presentation showing why we need to fire—”

“Oh my god, you're _finally_ gonna fire him?”

Tim nodded. “Ye— _p_ . Well. If I can get at least half the board to agree. Hence the presentation.”

“Wow. Good for you.”

Tim allowed a brief smile he knew Steph would see reflected in the window. “Thanks.” 

“But anyway, I'm a lesbian because I had sex with Cass.”

Tim froze mid-type. He very slowly swiveled his chair around. Batgirl was lounging on his couch with her legs thrown over one of the armrests, surprisingly not dripping blood or dirt on any of his (mostly) clean surfaces.

“You did _what_?”

“Had sex with Cass,” she repeated, like it was absolutely no big deal.

“Cass.”

She nodded.

“ _Our_ Cass? As in Cassandra Wayne, aka Black Bat, aka my _sister_?”

Steph frowned. “Are you gonna be weird about this?”

“Am _I—_ ”

“Because you were really weird about Jason and Damian for a while there.”

Tim sputtered. “That's—that was totally different! And it wasn't me being 'weird'.  _You_ were the one being weird. You wanted me to  _record them having sex!_ ”

Steph grinned. “Cass lets me record us.”

“Oh. _Oh my god._ I.” Tim stared at her in absolute horror. “ _You're forbidden from ever showing me anything on your phone ever again_.”

“You're such a prude, Tim.” Her grin melted into a smirk. “I bet _Colin_ wouldn't mind seeing—”

“ _Keep your homemade porn away from my boyfriend_.”

Steph dissolved into a pile of giggles.

“I don't even... _why?_ ”

Steph tried to stop laughing, but all she managed was to muffle them into these weird, cough-snort hybrids that sounded like something coming out of Croc's mouth when he has a broken jaw. “Wh-what? Why me and Cass or why did we record it?”

“ _Yes_.”

Steph swallowed down what would have most likely been another giggle fit. “Well, we recorded it because Cass is a kinky bitch—”

“Oh my god,” Tim moaned into his hands.

“—and I'm with her because...honestly? Going gay seems to be working out really well for the rest of the family. I figured I'd give it a try. Plus, Cass is hot and we both like the same iced coffee.”

Tim lowered his hands and stared at her flatly.

“What? I've dated people for way worse reasons.”

Oh, Tim  _knew._ Tim knew because, aside from Dick, Steph was the master of TMI.

“Steph.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can't just...decide to be gay. And—what do you even mean it's 'worked out for the rest of the family'? Just because me and Jason and Damian ended up—”

“Dick too.”

Tim blinked. “What?”

“Yeah. He's been dating Roy 'I Put the Arse in Arsenal' Harper for about a month and a half now. You didn't know?”

Tim could only shake his. He was  _literally_ speechless. Because he'd  _seen_ Dick more than once in the past month and a half, and he hadn't mentioned anything. Usually by this point in one of Dick's relationships, he could produce from memory detailed drawings of every sexual encounter he'd had with his latest lover based on nothing but one-sided conversation and have them be one hundred percent accurate to real life. Also, the relationship was usually over. For Dick not to mention it at all either meant he was ashamed, not getting any, or—

_ Or he's taking this one seriously. _

“Wow.”

“I know, right?” Steph nodded rapidly. “What the hell could he possibly see in _Roy Harper_.”

“No, that's not—” Tim shook his head, not really wanting to get into that when he still had a much more pressing matter in front of him. “Steph.”

“Hm?”

He took a deep breath and then just... _let it go._ Mostly.

“We've known each other for a long time, and even though you drive me crazy, I still value our friendship. So I hope what I'm about to say doesn't change things between us, but _if you hurt Cass I'll tell her father._ And then I'll tell Babs and Alfred.”

To his surprise, Steph just nodded. “Fair enough.”

Tim nodded back. “Good.”

He turned back to his computer.

“Now. Tell me all about Dick and Roy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember what I said in the beginning about updates being sporadic? Yeah, that's starting now. Don't worry, this will get finished. I even have the epilogue written up, I just need to write a few more chapters to connect it to the story so it isn't totally out of place.


	16. Wherein Jason Makes Everything Better (Or Worse, Depending on Your Point of View. Probably Worse.)

There is a major difference between self-awareness and vanity. Tim knew this. He knew this better than most, since he lived in a world where he regularly interacted with the super-rich, the super-villainous, and pretty much every possible combination of the two. He knew what it meant to brag about a skill, and what it meant to be quietly confident that one could pull off a difficult task without the need to take pride in that fact beyond the pride any man takes in his accomplishments. So it was without conceit and not out of vanity that Tim could confidently say he was of above average intelligence. His skills as an analyst were almost without peer. He could pick tiny details out at a glance that most people would never see if given half a _year_ to look for. His mind could rearrange facts and possibilities at speeds which could only be topped by a superpower or a super _computer_. His detective skills were _on par with Batman_.

At _least_.

So it was the easiest thing in the world for Tim to have a problem, identify that problem, realize it was something he couldn't solve on his own, know exactly who to go to for help with that problem, and phrase his request for said help in a way that would make it impossible for Jason to make fun of him for needing his help in the first place.

“Jason, I need help handling Dick.”

 _In theory_.

Because the one thing Tim _always_ forgot to factor into his calculations was _Tim_.

“Did you finally hit puberty and need someone to explain all the strange, new urges? Or is this about the orphan?” Jason smirked, then quickly frowned. “And how the fuck did you get in my apartment anyway?”

“It's not fun when someone thwarts _your_ security measures, is it?” Tim crossed his arms and tried to imitate one of Damian's more infuriating smug expressions, but he was sure the small blush heating up his face was totally ruining it. Also. There was nothing for Tim to feel smug _about_ because Jason _didn't even lock his door and how the heck does he not get robbed blind this is right in the middle of Crime Alley?_

Jason snorted. “'Thwarts'? Jesus, have you been hanging around Ra's in your spare time? Because you're starting to sound exactly like him.”

“Says the guy who's having sex with Ra's' _grandson_. If anything, I sound like Damian, and _he_ sounds like Ra's. Feel free to think about that the next time he's moaning your name.”

Tim's cheeks were currently auditioning for a role as the center of the Japanese flag, but it was _totally worth it_ to see the look of horror on Jason's face.

“I'm gonna fucking kill you.”

“Oh please. If you were any good at that I'd have been dead years ago. Now shut up and help me get Dick off my back.”

“Fuck you, I'm not helping you with shit. Not after that.”

Tim sighed. Really, one of these days he was going to learn to account for his... _Timness_ and plan these things accordingly.

Lucky for him, he _had_ planned for Jason's _Jasonness._

“Oh no. My life is over. I have been _thwarted,_ ” Tim deadpanned. “Is what I _would be_ saying if I didn't know you. You are, by nature, unhelpful. Which is somewhat of a dramatic irony, since vigilantes are helpful by default. I knew you would refuse to help me, I was planning on it actually, going over the many ways in which you _might_ refuse to try and choose the most likely excuse you would give and how to counter—”

“Oh for _fucks sake_ replacement, this isn't an episode of Sherlock and I'm not fucking Lestrade—”

It was only Tim's prolonged exposure to Steph which caused him to interrupt with, “Well, I'd hope not, for Damian's sake.”

Jason stared at him for a long moment.

“You have until I find a gun to get the fuck—”

“I have pictures of you crossdressing from your Robin days and if you don't help me I'll show them to Damian.”

Jason froze, then, ever so slowly, pulled his hand out from under the couch cushion where he'd been searching for his gun and used it to push himself up so he was in a sitting position.

“What... _the fuck_.”

“You're actually kind of cute in heels.”

“ _You—!_ ” Jason made one of Tim's stroked out cat noises. “Fucking little _pervert—_ ”

“It's not like I knew you were gonna do it.”

“You still _took a fucking picture_.”

“Pictures. Plural.”

Jason glared. “Burn them.”

“No way. They're priceless memories of my childhood. Plus. Blackmail material.”

He had no idea why he never thought to use them sooner.

“Fine. Then I'll just burn your whole building down.”

Tim scoffed. “Oh please, like that wasn't one of my top three concerns when I picked it out. It has one of the highest fire safety ratings in the _state_ and it's less than two blocks from a fire station. Besides, like I'd keep something as important as that in my _apartment_. They're in a safety deposit box—”

“Then I'll blow up your bank.”

“— _on the Watchtower_.”

“Bullshit. You're not in the Justice League, they wouldn't let you in.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “I'm going to ask you to think back on every single interaction we've ever had. Now, think about any story you've ever heard about me from anyone who's ever known me. Now, take out all the embarrassing ones, and the ones about me trying to navigate a social situation, and the ones about me attempting to have normal relationships with people my own age. Think about everything that's left, every single thing I've ever done since _discovering Batman's identity when I was nine_ , and tell me I'm lying when I say _I have my ways._ ”

Jason scowled. “ _Fine_.”

“So you'll help me?”

This time, he had _no_ problem pulling off smug.

“I said _fine_ didn't I? What do you even need help with anyway? Something about giant dicks? Is your orphan a mutant or something?”

“I don't think we're actually legally allowed to use the m-word—” Tim shook his head. “And no! This isn't about Colin. Or...sex. It's about Dick. Dick has nothing to do with my sex life”

“Please don't let this be where you tell me one of you actually has a vagina.”

“What? No! Why—” He mentally reviewed what he said. “No! I mean _Dick_. _Our_ _Dick._ ”

Jason's lips twitched. “Didn't know we shared one, babybird. Damian'll be pissed—”

“ _Our brother Dick_ ,” Tim said flatly. “And before you somehow take _that_ wrong too, remember, _pictures_.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine. So what's Disco done now? Is he hugging your boyfriend too much, or did you get benched because he keeps blinding you with his perfect smile?”

“He keeps... _crashing_ my dates with Colin. And he _says_ he's just in the area but he has that stupid, innocent grin like I might have forgot that this is the _exact thing he said he'd do_ and it's driving me crazy. Colin too, even though he won't actually _say_ it bothers him because he doesn't want to cause any trouble. Which is sweet, but—”

“This whole family is trouble.”

“ _Exactly!_ ”

“So, why is he crashing your dates? Is it the virginity thing? Because he was a pain in the ass about that with me and Damian until he walked in on us—”

“ _No_! It's not the...” Tim blushed and looked away. “Virginity thing. We've only been dating for two months. It's way too soon to think about that kind of thing.”

“Sorry. Didn't realize you weren't out of your _courting_ period yet. Do you at least let him tie a token of his affection to your lance before your jousts, or would that be too _forward_?”

“Shut up. Pictures. _Shut up_.”

Jason snorted. “Okay, okay. So, why _is_ he messing up your dates anyway?”

“Because. He wants me to bring Colin to the manor for dinner.”

“That doesn't sound—”

“ _With Bruce_.”

“Ah.” Jason winced. “Yeah, okay. I can get why you'd wanna avoid that.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. So I kind of need him to stop. But he won't listen to me.”

“And you think he'll listen to _me_?”

“No, but I don't have any blackmail material on Bruce—” _Yet_ “—so you're pretty much all I've got.”

“Second best to the Bat. Story of my life,” Jason said with a little put-upon sigh.

Tim ignored him. “So. Now you need to help me.”

Jason studied him. “And if I do this, you'll burn the pictures?”

“Absolutely not. If you do this I won't _share_ the pictures.”

“You're not fucking holding this over me for the rest of my life—”

“Just. Look at it this way. How long are any of us likely to live anyway?” Tim asked with a reassuring smile.

Jason seemed to consider that for a moment, then shrugged. “Point.”

“Good.” This would work so much better if Jason wasn't fighting him the entire time. “So...any ideas?”

Jason just smirked. “Don't worry babybird. _I've got this_.”

 

* * *

 

“ _This isn't what I meant!_ ” Tim hissed as he, Jason and Colin walked into their—Tim hated the way its description had changed, it was _his first—_ coffee shop and saw Damian, Dick and Roy sitting around one of the larger tables in the corner. “And you said we were meeting _you_ here for a _strategy session_!”

“Yeah, I lied.” Jason shrugged. “Got you here, didn't it?”

“ _Those pictures are going on the entire internet—_ ”

“Look,” Jason said, ignoring Tim's threat with the ease of someone who had heard it a hundred times before. Which he had. At least. Because that's when Tim stopped counting. “You don't want have the whole Uncomfortable Bruce Dinner, right? And Dickie is a freak and probably just wants to coo at you or something for a few hours. So a double date is the next best thing.”

“Then why is _Damian_ here?”

“Because I haven't seen him for two days and we're both free and I'm not spending the day hiding in the bushes listening in over a comm and telling you what to say like a crappy sitcom episode. And don't even _try_ to tell me you wouldn't have made me.”

Tim kept his mouth shut, because he, maybe, _possibly,_ always carried around an extra set of comlinks in case a situation like that ever popped up.

“Besides, we've done the crazy Dick date before. So we'll be a buffer.”

Tim scowled. Sure, Jason was being more considerate than he might have expected, even with the pictures hanging over his head, but he still hated the idea of _anyone_ shoving themselves into one of his and Colin's dates. Dates were supposed to be _personal_ and _private_ and probably a few other things they don't have a word for in _Bat_.

A soft hand slid into his and gave it a squeeze.

“It might not be that bad,” Colin said with a small smile. It was cute and overly optimistic and Tim wasn't sure if that level of naivete was disturbing or charming.

“You might as well be wearing a red shirt and saying 'at least we're safe now'.”

Colin giggled. “It won't be _that_ bad.”

“It really won't,” Jason added. “I got him to promise that he'd stop bothering you if I actually got you to show up. I'm pretty sure he didn't think I'd be able to, but he made the promise in front of Roy and he'll _make_ him keep it.”

“See?” Colin asked brightly. “Even if it's horrible it'll only be a few hours and then we never have to do it again. And I've never gotten any pictures of Jay and Dami on a triple date before...”

“If I see a camera I'm smashing it.”

Colin giggled. “Don't worry, you won't see it.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything in return. Which, for once, Tim was kind of annoyed about, because instead of snapping off a witty, profanity-laden comeback, Jason was now leading them over to the table.

“Tim!” Dick grinned—somewhat manically, Tim thought. Almost Joker-esque. “And Colin!” Tim quickly marked all the exits. “It's about time you guys got here. We've been waiting for a while now.”

And then, because Dick has _no shame_ , he turned to Jason and immediately said, “I didn't think you'd actually get them to come. I'm impressed little wing.”

“Whatever. Just remember you said you'd leave them alone.”

“Awww.” Somehow, Dick's grin got even wider. “You're such a good big brother, Jay.”

Jason sneered. “I just don't want the creeper climbing in my windows at four in the morning on my fucking nights off anymore crying about you.”

“Language Jaybird,” Roy said, earning himself a hard snack on the back of the head as Jason passed behind him to take a seat in the chair on the other side of Damian. Which left two chairs open, one next to Dick and one next to Jason. Tim very quickly did the math on which would be less traumatizing to Colin, then bit back a sigh as he slid into the chair next to Dick. He bore the hug with stoic resignation that would have made Bruce jealous, and allowed himself a tiny smirk at Dick's exaggerated frown when he realized Colin was too far away to hug too.

“Such anger problems,” Roy muttered, rubbing the back of hid head. Jason ignored him and started whispering quietly with Damian.

“So Colin,” Dick said, patting Roy's hand but otherwise ignoring the assault on his boyfriend. “We haven't seen you around the manor much, lately.”

By the way he screwed up his face, Tim could tell he was trying to go for one of Alfred's casual, yet piercing looks of disappointment/polite-not-a-suggestion-actually-a-demand-to-fix-your-behavior-at-once. Except it was ridiculous, because the eyebrows were all wrong and Dick was too pretty to pull off pursed lips without looking like he was pouting.

Although it seemed to work well enough on someone who hadn't been inoculated by years of Alfred's not-glares, because Colin tensed up next to Tim. “Um—”

“Dick,” Tim snapped.

“What?” Dick raised his eyebrows, looking as innocent as can be. _This_ look he pulled off a lot better, but still nowhere near perfect because _Dick was never innocent of anything_.

“Stop trying to intimidate my boyfriend.”

Colin flushed the second the words were out of his mouth, and after a moment, so did Tim.

 _Oh my god, I can't believe the first time I called Colin my boyfriend out loud in front of him was to yell at Dick. I'm the_ worst at life _._

“Um...” Tim licked his suddenly dry lips, wondering how bad his latest faux pas was.

After a moment, a slow smile spread across Colin's face and he beamed up at Tim. “Boyfriend, huh?”

_Apparently not bad at all._

Tim shrugged, utterly failing at cool. “Well, we _have_ been dating for two months.”

Colin reached over and squeezed Tim's hand. Tim squeezed back and smiled at his newly acknowledged boyfriend.

It was a nice little moment.

Which was, of course, ruined almost immediately.

“So, you've been dating for two months and you didn't even call each other boyfriends until _right now_?” Dick asked, seeming almost offensively confused and more than a little worried. “Is there something... _wrong_ with either you?”

_Okay, scratch the 'almost'._

“Not everyone in this family jumps right into bed on the first date,” Tim said, scowling.

“Hey, we didn't jump into bed until our tenth date,” Jason said, cutting in right then because of _course_ he couldn't be bothered when it might actually be helpful. He paused, then glared at Colin. “You better not have any pictures of that.”

Colin flushed, and rapidly shook his head. “Nono! I didn't take any, I ran away the second you dragged Dami into that alley and put your hand down his pants! I didn't even see anything.”

Tim gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. “You have no idea how lucky you are.”

“ _You took Dami's virginity in a dirty alley!?_ ” Dick screeched.

All conversation in the coffee shop stopped dead when, as one singular morbidly curious being, every single head turned slowly towards their table.

“Oh my god,” Tim muttered, ducking his head and wishing his bangs were long enough to cover his entire face.

“Of course not,” Damian scoffed. He crossed his arms and scrunched his way-too-young-looking-not-to-be-jailbait face up into a look of utter scorn. “That is merely where we first performed fellatio on one another.”

Colin choked on the water he'd been drinking and started to cough. Tim rubbed his back and made sure he was okay as he pretended they were anywhere else. Jason put his arm around Damian's shoulder, both looking smugly out at the crowd and daring any of them to say anything about their too-obvious age difference. Roy was covering his mouth with his gloved metal hand, laughing silently with tears streaming down his cheeks.

And Dick...

Dick looked like he wished he'd never woken up that morning.

He stared at the both of them in slack-jawed horror before getting up and slowly walking out of the coffee shop. Roy burst out into big, gasping laughs before getting up to follow.

Jason caught Tim's eye and winked.

“I told you I had this.”

With a loud _thunk_ , Tim's forehead connected with the table.


	17. Damian Wayne, Executive Vice President of Animal Relations

Tim was in the cave with Bruce going over a list of potential suppliers for the Penguin's latest gun running operation when Damian tore in on his motorcycle, threw off his helmet, and stormed up to them.

“Father, I require forty million dollars immediately.”

It probably said a lot about how their family dynamics had changed over the past year that Bruce's first reaction was to ask, “Are you asking for Jason? Because there are only so many times Wayne Enterprises can donate money to reconstruct the docks before it starts to seem suspicious.”

“Four, actually,” Tim supplied. Bruce raised an eyebrow. “What? I ran the calculations a few months ago. I sent you an email about it.”

Bruce stared at him for a moment. “I never got it.”

“...you _do_ check your email, right?”

“Of—”

“Your _Batman_ email?” Tim asked, crossing his arms. “Because I know you check your corporate email, now. I rewrote WE's internal software to send a message to my phone, my tablet, and _all_ of my computers whenever you open anything I send you. I didn't think I needed to do it to the cave computers, too.”

Tim immediately started making mental lists of all the programs he was going to have to rewrite, and sighed. He was going to have to start choosing between Colin and sleep again, wasn't he?

“Tim.” Bruce's lip curled into what almost looked like _wry amusement_. “I check _all_ my email.”

“What about your spam folder?”

Bruce blinked. “The cave email system doesn't have a spam folder.”

“Yes it does.”

“No, it doesn't. The system is designed so that it can only be accessed internally by pre-approved email addresses.”

“Oh, _Bruce._ ” Tim gave him a small, pitying smile. “Spam _always_ gets in.”

“I—”

“ _Father!_ ” Tim and Bruce both started—well, Tim did visibly, but he was sure Bruce was just as surprised—both of them having forgotten he was there. “The money is for me.”

“Why do you need forty million dollars?” Bruce asked. He almost sounded like he was actually interested in the answer, too.

“I need to open a series of animal shelters around the country.”

Tim and Bruce shared a glance.

_Well. That was...actually kind of exactly what I expected._ Especially since he seemed to remember something about him and Dick breaking up an illegal dog fighting ring that night.

“Damian,” Bruce said patiently. “There are already plenty of animal shelters—”

“ _They are kill shelters_ ,” he snarled.

“Some, yes.”

“ _Too many._ Especially in this city. Did you know that only one out of every _five_ animals delivered to a shelter in Gotham manages to be adopted before being euthanized?”

“No.”

“I did.”

They both looked at Tim, Damian seeming particularly surprised. Tim shrugged. “It's a statistic.”

“Regardless,” Bruce said, turning back to his son. “We don't have the money to build and operate a country-wide system of shelters—”

“Actually,” Tim cut in. “We might.”

Bruce _did,_ after all, have a net worth of eighty billion dollars. Tim knew the exact amount down to the last cent. Which, for some reason, always seemed to end in a three. He had a small team in R &D working on figuring out why.

“Tim...”

“What? Okay, maybe not _country-wide,_ but we definitely have enough to fund shelters in New Jersey.” Most of Bruce's assets weren't liquid, but the company had been turning enough of a profit lately that it didn't really matter. Even accounting for the large section of Bruce's personal finances set aside specifically for Mission related expenses, there was more than enough left over for something like this without involving WE in any way, if necessary.

“Look,” Tim said to Damian. “Why don't you write up a proposal and email it to me. Start with a plan to open up about five shelters in Gotham, with ten to fifteen more to open within the next year, and fifty around the state the year after that. If you can make it work on paper, I might even be able to get WE on board to defray part of the costs.”

Bruce and Damian both stared at him in disbelief. Bruce's seemed more in the line of _are you crazy?_ But Damian was almost in awe.

“I... Yes!” Damian grinned, _grinned_. _At Tim._ “I will have it in your inbox by morning, Drake.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Thank you.”

Tim smiled. “No problem.”

Damian nodded once, then turned and ran towards the stairs that led up into the manor without even changing out of his suit.

“Can we actually afford this?” Bruce asked.

“Sure.”

“It'll mean extra work for you...”

Tim shrugged. “Not much. And besides, writing up a proposal will be good practice for him. You _did_ want him taking more of an interest in the company.”

“I did. But...” Bruce looked slightly uncomfortable, which probably meant he was about to start talking about _emotions_. “I thought the idea bothered you. Damian becoming part of the company. You never seemed...overly enthusiastic about it, in the past.”

Which was true, Tim had to admit. Bruce had given the company to _him_. Just like he'd given him Robin. Just like he'd promised that he'd always have Robin. And while it was Dick who gave Robin away, not Bruce, for the longest time Tim was sure _this_ birthday was going to be the one that Bruce decided his _real_ son was old enough to start being trained to take over Tim's job. A job that, despite the long hours and the endless line of idiots he had to deal with, he actually enjoyed and took pride in, almost as much as being Red Robin. He always ended up spending a great deal of Damian's birth month worrying about it being taken from him.

_When had that changed?_

Probably around the time he started thinking of Damian as a human being, instead of a troll created for the sole purpose of ruining Tim's life.

_After he started dating Jason._

“I'm...I'm okay with it,” Tim said, surprising himself just as much as Bruce, if the expression on the man's face was anything to go by. “I don't want him to take over the company. Even if he was at all ready for that, I'd still want to keep my job—”

“It's yours as long as you want it.”

The same exact thing Bruce had said about Robin. Tim couldn't help smiling. “I know.”

And for the first time in...probably _ever,_ he actually thought he meant it.

“But I wouldn't mind if he started learning how it worked. It's hard to respect money when he has access to so much of it and no idea how much work goes into making it. It would be good for him. And there are already enough board members who still can't get over the fact that there's actually a Wayne who can make competent business decisions. I'd love to see their faces when I show up with another one. Especially one with _Brucie blood_ running through his veins.”

Bruce snorted, which considering they were in the cave and he still had half the suit on, was basically a full on belly laugh. “If that ever happens,” Bruce said, “I'll make sure to clear Brucie's schedule.”

Tim grinned, already working out ways to try and convince Damian to present his proposal to the board in person.


	18. The Perils and Joys of Dating High School Boys

Out of all the weird things that had happened to Tim in his shortish life, voluntarily going within a hundred yards of a high school was probably one of the weirdest. _One of_ , because the _actual_ weirdest was voluntarily going within a hundred yards of a high school to pick up his _underage boyfriend so they could go on a date before fighting crime together._ At least it was Gotham Academy (which Colin got into because money always spoke louder than anything and Damian absolutely refused to subject himself to normal people school if there wasn't at least one person he knew who felt just as out of place there as he did. Of course, he'd phrased it a bit differently, with less emotional vulnerability and more “I'll burn this place to the ground if you don't force Wilkes to endure this indignity with me Father”) and not some—and here Tim couldn't help shudder internally— _public high school._ Not that Tim was a snob—well, unless coffee or an entertainment medium were involved—but he'd been around enough of Gotham to know the odds of parking his Ducati in front of a public school and it still having all its parts when he went to leave.

Those odds were not good.

A breeze kicked up and Tim shoved his hands into his leather jacket. He was early, because traffic was light and what are speeding laws? So he still had about fifteen minutes before Colin would walk out of school because Tim's boyfriend was nothing if not habitually late and in a rush.

Tim couldn't hold back a smile thinking about how adorable it was.

After a few minutes of replaying his favorite Colin Being Precious moments in his head, his eyes slid away from the boring tree he'd been staring at and fell upon a sight which turned his smile into a full on, evil villain cackle.

Just outside the main entrance, surrounded by a flock of giggling girls, was a very disgruntled looking Damian.

 With the way they kept staring at him like he was a limited edition blu-ray collection and giggling at him when he grunted out a response to one of their questions, Tim didn't even need to use his lip reading skills to tell they were flirting with him. Although Tim totally used them anyway and almost died when one of the girls actually put their hand on his arm and asked  _how often he worked out._ Tim almost felt guilty for laughing, if only because there was a very real chance he was about to witness one of those girls being murdered. Not that Damian seemed to have any idea he was being sized up like one of the second to last turkeys the day before Thanksgiving. Aside from the aforementioned grunts and disgruntled expression, he barely looked away from his phone.

 _Probably complaining that Alfred wasn't waiting for him. To Jason, most likely, because not even Damian would dare criticize Alfred_ directly _._ Tim frowned as something else occurred to him. _He better not see me and expect a ride. There's no way I can fit three people on this thing and I'm not kicking Colin off just because Damian hates breathing the same air as people his own age._

Thankfully, he didn't seem all too eager to look away from his phone. Not even to glare at the girl who _wouldn't stop touching him_ and _dear god_ Tim was starting to get a bit uncomfortable. Was this sexual harassment? Was Damian being sexually harassed? Tim's frown deepened. _Am I going to have to go over there and...do something?_

The very distinct sound of a handgun's hammer being clicked back broke through his thoughts.

“If that hand goes any higher,” came a furious whisper from the small collection of bushes a few feet to Tim's left, “I'm gonna blow your fucking head off.”

Tim blinked. He _knew_ that voice. “Jason?”

The bushes fell silent.

Then they rustled slightly, and Jason's head popped up from behind the largest one.

“Replacement?”

Tim stared at him. Jason stared back.

Tim looked at Damian, then back to Jason. Just in time to see Jason glance in Damian's direction and grit his teeth.

Then, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a blizzard on Hoth, a smile spread across Tim's face.

“You can never give me crap about stalking _ever again_.”

“I'm not stalking.”

Tim bounced on the balls of his feet. “You so are.”

“No I'm not.” Jason glared at him, standing up fully before—and here Tim completely _lost his crap—stalking_ over. He stopped in front of Tim, who was trying so hard not to die of laughing, and began an impressively Bruce-esque _loom._ “Stop laughing.”

“I—” Tim gasped. “Can't. _Stalking_. Oh my god.”

He almost wished Dick was here, _he'd_ find it funny at least as much as Tim did. Probably more, honestly.

“I'm not stalking,” Jason practically growled. “He's my boyfriend. You can't stalk your own boyfriend—”

“Oh you so can,” Tim got out in between getting his breath back.

“—so really I'm just checking up on him and—”Suddenly Jason raised his gun—“ _That's it that bitch is dead.”_

Thankfully Tim had sobered up enough to grab Jason's gun arm as he started towards the girl who now had her head on Damian's shoulder.

“Let go Tim.” Jason's voice was deathly calm, which meant Jason himself was anything but.

_Oh god, how did I go from waiting for Colin to stopping Jason from shooting up a school?_

“Please stop being insane,” Tim begged. Jason snarled and tried to yank his arm free. _Okay. New tactic._ “At least calm down before you start shooting because with the way you are now you might hit Damian.”

To Tim's surprise, that actually worked.

“Fuck,” Jason breathed. He actually started taking deep breaths. Big, slow, calming ones that Tim was pretty sure he recognized from late night self help infomercials. Tim was so surprised that Jason managed to yank his arm out his his now-lax grip. Thankfully, instead of stalking towards his would-be murder victim, he stomped off towards the road and sat down on the curb. Tim took one last longing look for Colin—and seeing nothing but teenagers he _didn't_ want to make out with for six hours, including the now-pouting girl Damian had less than gently shoved off his shoulder—before he walked over and took a seat next to Jason.

Jason glanced at him for a moment, then looked away and settled into a sulk.

Tim sighed. _Why can none of us deal with emotions like normal people?_

_...oh. Right._

“You know,” Tim said, marveling at the twists in his life that led him to apparently becoming Jason's relationship counselor, “you don't have any actual reason to be jealous, right?”

“I'm not jealous,” came the disgusted—and totally _expected—_ reply.

“You want to shoot a teenage girl in the head for clinging to your boyfriend. That's pretty much the dictionary definition. With guns.”

“Like you wouldn't wanna shoot someone hanging all over your orphan.”

Tim sighed again. “Putting aside the fact that I wouldn't shoot _anyone_ , and the fact that Colin would absolutely freak out if someone grabbed him out of nowhere, no, I wouldn't be _crazy with jealousy_ if someone touched Colin because _I trust my boyfriend not to cheat on me_.”

Tim paused for the expected explosion of “I trust him! Of course he wouldn't cheat on me I'm Jason Todd and I'm awesome!” or something in that vein, but instead of snapping out of his mood and going back to being the cocky dick they all knew and loved (to varying degrees), Jason stayed silent and stared at the ground.

Tim blinked.

_Oh._

“Please don't tell me you think Damian would cheat on you.”

Jason said nothing.

“Oh for—” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. _Seriously, the amount of issues this family carries around is enough to fill a fifteen year run of weekly releases._ “Damian's _not cheating on you_. Especially not with girls since I'm pretty sure if he isn't actually gay he's pretty firmly on the 'guy' side of bisexuality—”

“I _know_!” Jason snapped.

Tim crossed his arms and fixed Jason with his best skeptical glare. “Really?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Really.”

“Then what the heck are you moping about?”

Jason screwed his face up into an expression that would have been better suited to a toddler refusing to take a bath, and for a second, Tim was sure he wasn't going to answer. Then, just when he was about to give up and leave his idiot siblings to sort their own crap out, Jason exploded with, “I just hate how all these barely pubescent gold diggers think they have a chance with him! They have no idea he's mine because he's all 'it's none of their business Jason, I don't need to announce my relationship status to people who mean nothing to me, now stop talking about this and get your tongue in my ass'.”

“Oh my god...”

“It just drives me fucking crazy!”

_What, having your tongue in his—_

Tim bit the inside of his cheek, _hard._

_I really need to stop hanging around Steph._

Later, Tim would blame his _incredibly understandable_ distraction for what happened next.

“Why don't you just go claim him then, if it bothers you so much?” he huffed, trying really hard not to think about _things_.

Honestly, he didn't even expect Jason to hear him, he'd been on this end of Jason's snits enough times to know he never really listened to anyone when he was like this. And yet, instead of more ranting, there was silence.

“You know what?” Jason muttered, staring at Damian. “That's not a bad idea, babybird.”

Tim blinked. _What?_ He mentally reviewed the last twenty seconds of their conversation. _He didn't think I was serious, did he?_ “Jay—”

But it was too late, Jason was already up and halfway across the courtyard, striding towards Damian with the kind of determination Tim was used to seeing in Dick when he was stalking towards the last box of Lucky Charms in the grocery store. Tim briefly debated chasing after him, but, really, he'd already done enough damage. It was time to sit back and let this play out however it was going to.

Tim could be zen like that, sometimes.

So when Jason got to Damian, and Damian looked up from his phone with wide, almost-panicked eyes, all Tim did was watch. And when Jason glared at the girls, sending the closest ones scurrying away with a shriek, Tim barely shook his head as he took out his phone.

And when Damian opened his mouth, most likely to ask what the heck Jason was doing at his school, and when he barely got the first syllable out before Jason grabbed him and pulled him into the most passionate kiss Tim had ever seen—including during his Cass-mandated viewing of The Notebook—all he did was snap a picture.

When he was done, he scrolled through his open text conversations, barely hearing the fallout of Jason's claiming. The gasps and exclamations, the giggles and squeals, they were all background noise as Tim sent an incredibly high resolution shot of Jason dipping Damian back in front of his high school and absolutely _plundering_ his mouth to Colin.

It took less than ten seconds for his Colin text tone—the communicator beep from TNG—to sound.

_Be there in 5 minutes!_

And a second text following immediately after:

_Take more!_

Tim laughed, then raised his phone.

Never let it be said he was anything less than a dutiful boyfriend.

 


	19. To Break a Bird

_ Stupidstupidstupid! _

Tim mentally berated himself, _screamed_ at himself, as he raced across the rooftops towards his motorcycle. His muscles protested every step of the way, with a special shriek from his twisted ankle every time he slammed his left foot onto unforgiving blacktop. Blood poured into his eyes from a long gash on his forehead that had torn his cowl, and he couldn't even be sure it was still covering his face.

Tim ignored it all.

_ Don't feel. Compartmentalize. There's no pain. You can breathe. You aren't hurt. Just  _ run _._

He fired a line, swallowed back the slight nausea as he was yanked off his feet for what had to be the thousandth time that night. When he landed, he allowed himself a single grunt of pain as a concession to his body's agony before sprinting towards the edge of this new roof and repeating the process.

“ _Red Robin, come in!_ ”

Tim stumbled, momentarily startled at the voice in his ear— _Babs. Other people exist. Don't let it distract you—_ and swore under his breath before frantically answering. “Did the cameras come back up? Can you see him?”

He swallowed down the question he really wanted to ask, too terrified of the answer.

_ Is Colin alive? _

“ _No. They're still down. But Batman and Nightwing are still held up fighting off the attack on the GCPD station and Robin and Red Hood are all the way across the city._ ” She paused. “ _You're the only one who can get to the manor._ ”

Tim snarled. “I already _know that_! Don't you have anything useful to tell me?”

He didn't even feel the slightest bit of regret for snapping at her like that. She should know better. He didn't need useless information. He couldn't waste his breath responding to _stupid_ comments about how it was all up to him to save the boy he—

_Oh my god._ Tim gasped for air in a way that had nothing to do with being out of breath. _I never even told him._

“ _Just that none of the alarms on the cave have gone off, which means Bane hasn't gotten in yet or—”_

“Or he knows how to get past them.”

A haze of dread settled over Tim's heart as he articulated his biggest fear for the first time that night. The cave was supposed to be the safest place in the city. They'd all discussed it, they'd all _agreed_. _Batman_ had agreed. _Tim_ had agreed.

He never would have left Colin there otherwise.

Tim couldn't even feel relief as he _finally_ made it back to his bike. He just jumped on, started it up and tore off into the night, speeding out of the city proper towards the manor, and cursing himself for not seeing Bane's plan sooner.

Because it was painfully obvious, in hindsight. The perfectly planned mass breakout of Blackgate carried out by paramilitary troops. The way all the inmates stormed Gotham, wreaking havoc in an orgy of destructive rage—all _except_ the biggest and most intelligent criminals. The most dangerous people outside of Arkham. The way those particular inmates came back just as they'd all thought they were on the verge of stopping the riots, armed to the teeth with guns and grenades and rockets and _Venom_. That should have been the first thing that tipped him off, and he _had_ thought it suspicious, but Bane had been so quiet for so many years. His file on the computer in the cave even said he was suspected of being dead. And this new army, these new soldiers, not even Batman thought Bane could have recruited them in secret, not without _some_ hint of his presence popping up on someone's radar. It caught them all by surprise, and they were so focused on stopping the violence, on keeping the city safe, that none of them stopped to think about _why_ this was happening. Why, even though the Venom-enhanced inmates were carrying out attacks on city hall and the CGPD, the mall and other highly populated areas, they never once came within shouting distance of Arkham. If the plan was to destroy Gotham, as both Batman _and_ Tim assumed it was, why wouldn't they immediately go for the most destructive group of people within a hundred miles? It was what Bane had done, the first time he'd gone after the Bat. And the fact that Arkham remained untouched was just more false proof that he didn't have anything to do with this latest attack.

_ So stupid. Bruce taught me to think. Why didn't I think? Why didn't  _ he think _!?_

Whatever the reason, neither of them considered anything beyond getting the riots and attacks under control. Not until the chilling laugh echoed over their comms. Not until they heard Bane's voice, telling Batman that he was already at his home, that he was going to burn it to the ground, that he was going to destroy everything Bruce _and_ Batman cared about, starting with his family's history, and moving up to his money, his company, and, finally, his children. He wanted the Bat broken, not just in body, because the Bat was so much _more_ than just a body, but his mind, his _spirit,_ his _sanity._

Bane had left Arkham standing because that's where he wanted Batman to live out the rest of his days.

Then the cameras at the manor had gone dark, and that was all Tim remembered before starting his panicked flight across the rooftops of Gotham. Because not everyone was out stopping the madness. Colin—clumsy, awkward, still growing into his limbs Colin, had fallen down the stairs at school and broken his leg. He'd been at the manor with Tim, gorging himself on ice cream and bad horror movies and laughing at Tim through a pleased flush for how much he was babying his injured boyfriend when the breakout happened, and even though Colin healed faster than normal humans, not even he could recover from a broken leg in two days. So they'd taken him to the cave, locked it down and locked him in with ice cream and Tim's 3DS, and gone out, so sure that he was safe. Tim had pushed his boyfriend out of his mind to focus on the crisis, on the _mission_.

He couldn't even remember if he'd said goodbye.

_ Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! _

It took a small eternity, but Tim finally made it to the manor. It was still standing, but the front gates were nowhere to be seen and the entire front entrance looked like someone had fired a half dozen rockets at it. A gaping, scorched hole where the door used to be opened into a foyer as pitch dark as the starless night surrounding Tim. He skidded to a stop in front of the hole—c _ave's still on lockdown, can't drive in, wasting so much_ time— not even turning off his bike before leaping off and running into the manor. His heart slammed in his chest as he ran through, seeing signs of damage—scorches here, broken walls there, a few destroyed vases and torn up paintings—and cataloging it all in the back of his mind as he frantically made his way to the nearest secret entrance to the cave—the only way to get in when the cave was locked down.

Tim's ankle screamed, louder than before, and tears streamed down his face as he begged it to last just a little longer. _Don't lock up. Don't swell any more. I need you for just ten more minutes then I'll let you rest, I promise._

He pointedly left out the fact that he could only last nine and a half against Bane in his current condition.

_ More than enough time for Colin to get to the bike and get away. _

Tim refused to consider any other possibility. Colin _couldn't_ be dead.

Tim would need two ankles and a lot more than nine and a half minutes to make Bane suffer if he was.

He burst into the cave and gasped at the destruction that met him. The computer was all but destroyed, the few remaining screens flickering with static as sparks shot out of the ruined console. Display cases were shattered, equipment lockers were smashed apart, their contents strewn across the stone ground. Tim noticed all of that and more in less than a second, because that was all it took for him to spot the thing that stopped his heart in his chest.

A blue cast lay on the ground, surrounded by debris and broken in half. Even as far away as he was, Tim could see Damian's hastily scrawled name, signed that very night by a scowling former assassin grumbling the entire time about stupid scribblings that never helped anyone heal any faster.

A burning pain in Tim's chest reminded him that he hadn't been breathing, and with the reminder came huge, gasping gulps of air. He shuddered as they quickly turned into wheezing sobs.

_ Colin's cast. That's...oh god. Where is he? Where the  _ fuck  _is he!?_

Later on, Tim would think back and remember the silence. Would realize how strange it was, how he should have been hearing Bane tearing the cave apart. Would know what that meant. But right then, he couldn't think about anything but finding Colin as he begged a God he wasn't sure he'd ever believed in that Colin somehow wasn't dead, that he hadn't just lost someone _else_ he cared about, that there was some other explanation for Colin's broken cast to be lying in the middle of all that destruction.

So it was understandable that, when he rounded the computer and _finally_ found his missing boyfriend, all he could do was freeze in place and _stare_.

“T-timmy?” Colin squeaked, a bright red flush spreading across his face and neck before traveling down his very pale, very _bare_ chest. He clutched the torn remnants of his clothing to his—presumably also bare—groin as he squirmed uncomfortably on his perch _on top of a giant, unconscious Bane_.

Tim blinked rapidly. “Colin...?”

“I...” Colin's eyes darted around, doing everything they could to avoid looking at Tim.

“What are you doing on top of Bane?” Tim asked. He didn't know why he wasn't rushing over and dragging Colin into the tightest hug the world had ever seen. He wanted to. He _really_ wanted to. But shock and relief had pretty much short circuited his system.

“Um.” Colin chewed his bottom lip and clutched his clothes even tighter. “We fought, and I don't really remember much of that, but he, um, I got him down and then he stopped moving and I turned back and I was up here and I can't get down because my leg's still broken and I'm kinda...” His blush was almost at his stomach, now. “Stuck,” he finished, smiling weakly.

Tim tore his eyes away from Colin, his own face burning as he realized just how intently he'd been staring at his boyfriends bare torso, and took in the entire scene. The destruction which he now saw could have only come from two giants with super strength brawling through the cave. The way Bane's face, sans mask, looked like bloody hamburger meat. The tank of Venom on Bane's back, undamaged and _still_ pumping the liquid into his unconscious body and doing absolutely nothing to heal him. The way Bane didn't so much as twitch as Colin shifted awkwardly on his massive back.

_ Colin's okay. Colin's alive. Colin beat the crap out of Bane. _

There was, really, only one way he could respond to this.

“I am so ridiculously in love with you.”

Colin gasped, his eyes snapping back to Tim and actually looking at him for the first time since Tim had seen him.

“R-really?” Tim nodded, and Colin smiled brightly. “I love you too!”

Colin bit his lip again and looked around the destroyed cave. “And, um, I really, _really_ wanna kiss you right now. But, um...do you think you can get me some pants first?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the realization that I have absolutely no idea how to wrap this story up. It really doesn't have a plot, and while I do have an epilogue written it's short and kinda doesn't go with the overall continuity of the rest of these chapters since I wrote it back before chapter 4. So, even though I absolutely hate when other people do this, I'm going to ask you guys how you want this story to continue going forward. I could leave it unfinished indefinitely, using it as a one shot dump for this AU whenever I come up with an idea for a new chapter, but the story will probably never have any real conclusion; I could try to put in a small mini-plot that would last maybe two or three chapters and end with some kind of closure; or I could just post the epilogue I have and mark the story as complete. Before you decide, keep in mind that I'm really busy with my other writing and RL stuff, so anything but the last option will take a while. So, leave me a comment telling me what you think I should do, or you can send me a message through tumblr (http://danwritesthings.tumblr.com/) if comments aren't your thing for some reason. 
> 
> And since I've never said it before, thanks for stepping into my trash bin and reading this. I'm very flattered that something I barely put any effort into got so many kudos and hits. ^_^


	20. The Trouble With Time Part One: Wherein Tim Drake Vainly Tries To Convince Us He's Not a 90's Trash Baby

Tim watched the two men skulking along the night-darkened streets of Gotham with a sense of mild awe.

It wasn't that Gotham had cleaned itself up over the years, at least not by any kind of sane, not-Gotham measurement, but for some reason Tim couldn't remember the last time he saw criminals who were being so... _obvious_ about it. Even the dumbest of Gotham's less flashy criminals were better at hiding what they were up to, and they _never_ went out with just _two_ guys. The smallest gang— _do two guys even count as a gang?_ —Tim had seen in the last five years had been seven strong, and they were a group of kids waging a slightly confusing graffiti war against the sides of non-hotdog food carts. And even those kids were smart enough to have four of their number as designated Bat-lookouts. These guys hadn't so much as glanced at a rooftop since Tim started shadowing them.

 _And those leather jackets! I haven't seen bad guys wearing jackets with so many zippers since the 90's. And are those actual metal_ spikes _sticking out of their shoulders?_

Maybe they were on some kind of date? Even criminals had to date, right? And what better way to woo a fellow ne'er do well than by...doing whatever it was they were doing?

Tim frowned as everything he'd been trying not to think about by focusing on the hapless duo in front of him came pouring back in.

_Why do they get to go on a date when I can't?_

He glared at them, willing them to _finally_ commit a crime so he could swoop down and be terrifying.

 _Come on guys, you're alone, there are closed up stores everywhere, don't you want to steal some new..._ He glanced around, looking for a store without a security gate. _Maternity wear? Or maybe just litter, or jaywalk, or_ something _?_

There must have been something really out of whack with the cosmos, because for once the universe actually provided what Tim wanted. Or, it did after another five minutes, anyway, because even an obliging universe would only oblige in its own time and _not_ when Tim asked it to, because the universe is a sassy bitch, something Tim would normally appreciate but right now he just wanted to scare the _crap_ out of some leather dorks out on a leather dork date.

So when they saw a woman walking along on the opposite side of the street— _seriously what_ is _it with people being stupid tonight?—_ and pulled out switchblades Tim didn't even wait for them to make a move before he leaped off the top of the building, fighting the urge to hum “It's Raining Men” under his breath and he'd officially been spending _way_ too much time with Dick lately. He landed right on the back of Guy Number One, knocking him to the ground and using his momentum to crack the back of his skull with his elbow, putting him out of the fight before it could even start. He sprang off One's unconscious body, landing in front of Guy Number Two, who...just sort of stood there, staring at him slack-jawed.

_Oh yeah, the Legendary Terror of the Night's still got it._

“Tony!” Two shouted.

“'Tony'? Really?” Tim snorted. “Please tell me your name is Paulie.”

Two looked confused. “What?”

“You know, Tony and Paulie? From The Sopranos?” Two stared at him blankly and Tim sighed. “Nobody appreciates my references.”

“Kid,” Two said, holding up his knife. “I dunno what the hell you're supposed ta be, or why you're wearin' a freakin' Halloween costume, but you're gonna pay for killin' Tony.”

Tim blinked behind his lenses. “You...don't know who I am?”

In retrospect, that probably wasn't the part of Two's sentence he should have been focusing on. Not that it mattered, because even if his attack sort of took Tim by surprise, it was easy enough to knock the knife out of Two's hand, throw him to the ground and apply a few well placed blows to keep him there. All in all, the whole thing was over too fast and now Tim didn't have any distractions to keep him occupied. He glanced at Two, who was still conscious, if a little groany and gasping for breath, and after a moments deliberation sat down next to him on the curb.

“Can I ask you something?”

Two groaned incoherently.

“Thanks. Did you ever go on any school trips as a kid?” Tim paused. “Okay, stupid question, but for arguments sake, let's say you stuck with school longer than...” Tim studied Two for a moment. “The seventh grade? Yeah, seems right. And actually made it to high school. Then, let's further say that, instead of just getting into a regular high school, you found out you were adopted and your real parents were super rich and they tracked you down and took you away from your poverty filled life. Oh! Or maybe you were an orphan whose mother was cruelly forced to give you up by evil parents who couldn't handle their precious baby girl getting knocked up out of wedlock, and then went and rescued you from the cruel headmistress of the orphanage the moment they died? Either way, you ended up in Gotham Academy and they decided to send your entire grade on a European trip to 'expand your cultural horizons'.

“Now, for my question: isn't that a bit much for a bunch of sixteen year olds? I mean, if it was you, and you were in London or Paris or Rome and even though you were so excited to go on this trip, and even though your boyfriend thought he could handle you being gone for two weeks and even though your boyfriend's brother's boyfriend is _also_ on the same trip, and he's your best friend, and his relationship is way more codependent than yours, and even _he_ seemed to be totally into going on this trip, would you really, secretly, want to come home because you know your boyfriend and his brother are kind of going crazy being stuck in Gotham City without you and his brother's boyfriend too?”

Two, who had stopped his crying or whatever, was now staring at Tim with a look of almost adorable confusion.

“Take your time,” Tim said, smiling reassuringly.

“P-please don't kill me.”

Tim rolled his eyes. Not that Two could _see_ it behind the lenses of his mask, of course, so the effect was kind of lost on him. “Why do you guys always think we're gonna kill you? I think it's pretty obvious at this point that, Red Hood aside, we barely even maim.” Two's confused face stayed confused, and Tim sighed. “Seriously, have you _ever_ heard of Batman killing anyone? Ever?”

Ah, and _there_ was the comprehension Tim had been waiting for. Not the comprehension of “oh, yeah, you're totally right, Batman never _has_ killed, has he? And, if I might say Mr Red Robin, your manly physique looks especially fetching in that new uniform”, but the _original_ comprehension of the “you're one of those terrifying bat-people!” variety. It wasn't what he'd really wanted, which was an answer to his original question about whether or not Two thought Colin would appreciate an impromptu rescue from his school trip, but it was good enough. And the way Two's face paled was kind of funny. Red Robin very rarely got that kind of terror. Tim subtly puffed up with pride.

“Y-y-you're the _Batman_!?”

And then promptly deflated.

“Really?” Tim asked flatly. “Do I look _anything_ like a Bat?”

Two tried to scramble away, but Tim hit a few nerve strikes and stopped _that_ idea in its tracks. “ _Don't eat me!_ ” Two cried, holding the one arm that could still move up in front of his face, as if _that's_ where Tim would start munching away. Tim couldn't help bursting out laughing. Both at the guy's ridiculously overdone terror— _oh yeah, Tim's got all the Bat-skills. Suck on_ that _Jason—_ and at the idea of the face being at all edible. Please. If Tim was gonna eat the guy he'd start with the succulent flanks....although the guy was kind of scrawny, so he probably wouldn't have much meat on his bones and _dear god I really need to stop binge watching Hannibal with Damian._

“I'm not going to eat you.” _I can't even believe this is a thing I have to say out loud._ And then, because he hadn't yet been able to _murder_ the tiny Steph that lived in his head, added, “Unless you're talking about something totally different than cannibalism. In which case I'm _definitely_ not going to eat you.”

The innuendo totally went over Two's head, which was probably for the best honestly, and they fell into a very odd stand off. One where Two cried and begged Tim not to consume his flesh, and Tim stood there with his arms crossed _not consuming his flesh_.

It took longer than it should have for Two to realize he wasn't being eaten.

_At least I'm not bored yet._

Two lowered his arm. “A-are you gonna let me live?” he asked with an almost adorable, childlike tremor to his voice. Tim almost felt bad for him.

“Of course. I don't make a habit of killing people.”

“Th-then...you're _not_ the Bat?”

Tim sighed, but decided convincing this one criminal that Bruce doesn't actually kill was a lost cause. “No. I'm not the Bat.”

“Then what are you?”

Tim tried not to be offended. After all, the suit was kind of new, and even if it was basically just the old suit with a domino in place of the cowl—the reduced protection was _so_ worth being able to go an entire night without having chunks of sweaty hair _yanked_ out of his skull every time the cowl got yanked too hard—he knew it might take a while before he started getting recognized as Red Robin, the fearsome, morally ambiguous stalker of evildoers everywhere.

Figuring this was a good time to start rebuilding his rep, he stuck a pose and held is cape up menacingly in front of his face. “I'm Red Robin,” he said, letting a bit of a growl slip into his voice.

_Wow, I'm good at that. Fear me._

Instead of trembling in awed recognition of the specter of justice looming before him, Two blinked in confusion.

“Like, the restaurant?”

Tim dropped his cape and _stared_. “What? No! Ja—” He just _barely_ stopped himself from saying Jason's name, because despite Jason being the only person who still found Red Robin jokes funny _even Dick is mature enough to see how stupid they are Jason god_ he was pretty sure Jason didn't actually go out and get plastic surgery so he could pretend to be a weirdly dressed thug to mess with Tim. “I'm not a restaurant, I'm your greatest nightmare!”

The whole world seemed to take a moment to stop and give Tim a _look_.

 _I bet Bruce has never had to say something like that_.

“Okay...sure...” Two seemed suddenly wary, but not in the way Tim wanted. It was more like the way someone acts when they come upon a rabid dog or some guy stumbling out of an alley smelling like booze and vomit and screaming about Vicki Vale living in their brain. “Sure, whatever you say, pal.”

“I'm not crazy!” Tim insisted.

“Of course not kid,” Two agreed, sounding surprisingly reasonable for a thug cowering on the road and nursing several injuries. “Not crazy at all.”

“Don't patronize—“ Tim shook his head. “Look, I really am Red Robin. The _real_ Red Robin.”

“Still dunno who that is, kid.”

“ _Red Robin!_ ” Tim threw his hands up in frustration. “'One of those damn Robin kids'?” he added, throwing out the usual way thugs tended to talk about Batman's sidekicks.

 _I'm not a sidekick_ , Tim reminded himself. And he wasn't even sulking. Not a bit.

“Robin kids?” Two asked.

“Oh my god you are _terrible_ at not antagonizing the crazy person!” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose once his brain caught up with his mouth. “Not that I'm a crazy person. If anything, _you're_ the crazy one. How the heck are you a criminal in Gotham City and have _no_ idea who Robin is? Especially since you know about Batman.”

Not that there's anyone who _doesn't_ know about Batman, these days. Going multinational tends to kill the ability to remain an urban legend.

“Yeah, I heard of the Bat.” Two sounded almost relieved to have found some common ground with Tim. “But not any kids of Robin's or...uh...

“Red Robin!”

Yeah, that.” He studied Tim cautiously. “....you _sure_ you ain't the Bat?”

“ _I'm not Batman_.”

Two held up the one hand he wasn't supporting his weight with. “Okay! Okay!”

Tim shook his head, suddenly incredibly disgusted with the whole situation.

“I'm just gonna call the GCPD,” he muttered.

Two perked up. “Yeah, that's good. You do that. Just, uh, you know, do it away from me okay?”

Tim barely heard him. “And when you get there ask your cellmates who Red Robin is, you'll know they recognize me by the way the start _crying_. And then they'll all laugh at you for only knowing about Batman, and probably your jacket too. Seriously, the nineties called and they _don't_ want their fashion back.”

“Oh man, he doesn't even know what year it is,” Two muttered.

“ _I_ don't know what year it is?” Tim snapped. Two looked startled, like maybe he didn't know he'd been talking out loud. Tim was oddly satisfied at this. “ _You're_ the one wearing leather and _spikes_.”

“ _You're_ the one who doesn't even realize he's _in_ the nineties!” Two yelled, apparently forgetting whatever self-preservation instincts that had caused him to try and keep Tim calm.

Tim laughed. “It's hasn't been the nineties for _decades_! This is two thousand...”

He trailed off as something occurred to him. Time travel...wasn't exactly unheard of. And Tim had more experience with it than most people who hadn't actually traveled through time...

_It would explain a lot..._

Tim had learned to stop trying to search for explanations once he found one that fit the facts, no matter how insane it sounded. In the end, the time Tim saved by not foolishly thinking his life was supposed to make sense could be measured in _geologic ages_.

Now he just had to figure out which one of them wasn't where they were supposed to be.

“ _Oracle, this is Red Robin._ ”

“ _Go ahead, Red._ ”

“ _Are we in the nineties?_ ”

“ _...._ ”

“ _Oracle?_ ”

“ _Are you with Red Hood of Blackbat?_ ”

Tim blinked. “ _Um, no. What does that have to do with what year it is?_ ”

“ _Because Hood just asked me if it was two thousand five. And Blackbat just took down some kind of robot from the future that claimed to be powered by human laughter and was dosing downtown with an incredibly potent strain of Joker toxin we've never seen before._ ”

Tim turned these latest developments over in his head.

“ _Huh_.”

“ _Are you okay?_ ”

“ _Yeah. I'm fine._ ” He clicked off his comm and turned his attention back to Two. “What year do you think it is?”

Two shot him another wary look. “Nineteen ninety three...”

Tim shuddered. _Well that explains the jacket_.

“Right. Well, you're off by a few decades. But I'm sure you can find someone to catch you up in jail.” He tapped the button on his bandoleer that alerted the GCPD to a pickup at his current location, and then grappled away without another word.

Tim's night has just gotten a lot less boring.

 

* * *

 

“Can I _please_ play with the robot from the future now?” Tim begged over his comm as he drove his bike into the cave. True to Tim's prediction, his night had been eventful. He'd run into three more time displaced people, two criminals from the eighties who broke into the last Radio Shack in Gotham looking for beepers to steal and one lost little girl who wouldn't stop crying about missing her Hanson concert. The criminals ended up in the back of a cruiser and the little girl was quietly booked into Colin's orphanage after Tim bought her an MP3 player and a One Direction album. At some point between dropping her off and making his way across the city to the apartment complex where her parents still lived, she'd somehow disappeared into thin air. Presumably back to her own time, because the apartment, while empty of people, was filled with pictures of the little girl, from ones of her as a baby to her getting married to a guy who looked suspiciously like one of the guys on the cover of the album Tim had given her.

Which had all kinds of timeline implications that would have really worried Tim if he wasn't so preoccupied with getting his hands on the futuristic robot before _it_ disappeared, too.

“ _No,_ ” Batman growled in Tim's ear. “ _Don't touch anything until I get back._ ”

“But Bruc—”

“ _No. If you go near the robot I'm giving your bike to Damian and canceling the lease on your apartment._ ”

“That's not fair!”

“ _Batman out._ ”

Tim snarled in frustration as he brought his bike to a stop inside the cave. The robot was _right there_ too, just sitting in one of the sealed labs where Cass had put it after somehow dragging it back to the cave.

_Next time, I'm not asking permission. I'm a grown man I can play with robots from the future if I want._

Having reaffirmed his adulthood, Tim angrily yanked off his suit and threw it at the computer before stalking into the locker room for a nice, hot, sulky shower.

By the time he was done, Bruce _still_ wasn't back, and the lab that _used_ to have a giant futuristic robot in it was now empty, so it probably got sucked back into whatever weird time thing was going around and of course it was gone and Tim didn't even get to see it disappear.

 _Maybe Babs can get me some footage from the GCPD of Tony and Two when_ they _disappear._

The thought cheered him up slightly, and when he made his way up to the manor dressed in comfortable jeans and one of his big, fluffy sweaters (well, Bruce might take issue with Tim saying it was his because Tim had gotten it out of Bruce's locker, but if Bruce really wanted it he wouldn't have left it where Tim would see it right after he walked out of a shower and into the cold cave) he saw Jason sitting at the island in the kitchen nursing a coffee cup that was probably filled with some kind of hard liquor. Tim took a moment to reflect upon this _blasphemy_ against coffee. Then he debated just walking in, getting two bags of Oreo's and disappearing up to his room to _eat his frustrations away,_ but at the last second he plopped down on the stool next to Jason.

“Sup, replacement.”

Tim grunted.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. It was kinda nice. He and Jason were both missing their respective boyfriends, and Tim had always enjoyed being near someone who was suffering in the exact same way he was. Even if Jason wasn't sulking over missing out on being able to play with a _robot from the future_. Although, speaking of time travel...

“So, Babs said you got a guy from two thousand five?”

“Mmm.” Jason took a sip from his mug, grimaced, then took a much bigger swig. Tim rolled his eyes.

“What was he doing?”

Jason shrugged. “Sorta freaking the fuck out, actually.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “In an interesting way?”

“Nah.” Jason took another sip. “Apparently there was a meat packing thing in what used to be his apartment building.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm.”

“And this...bothered him.”

“Oh yeah. He was some kind of vegan or something, I didn't really give a shit about what he was screaming, but he totally flipped his shit and started throwing rocks at the windows and yelling, the whole thing. Freaked out some of the prostitutes across the street. I wouldn't have bothered with him, but Scarlet thought he was her ex and she's terrified of the fucker, so, yeah. Turned out he wasn't. But he was still breaking shit so I kicked his ass a bit and he started going on about his apartment and meat conspiracies—”

“'Meat conspiracies'?”

Jason shrugged again. “Like I said, I didn't ask. But then he started going on about it being two thousand five—”

“He just brought it up in conversation?”

“Yeah. Like, 'it's two thousand five and people are still eating meat and desecrating my home with dead things' kind of deal. I thought he was crazy, but then I remembered Cass's robot and talked to Babs and, yep, the meat place used to be an apartment building and once I got the guys wallet she looked up his name and he used to live there. It's kinda funny, because he's actually in jail now for setting fire to the place when it was converted six years ago and killing a few people. So I broke his jaw and called the cops.”

“Huh.” Tim frowned. _Did everyone know about the robot before me?_ He shook himself, silently promising he'd try letting the robot thing go. “Weird day.”

Jason snorted. “No shit.”

Tim glanced at Jason's significantly emptier mug. “So, any particular reason why you're drinking at...” He looked at the digital clock on Alfred's giant oven. “Six ten in the morning?”

Jason looked over at Tim for the first time since he sat down. “Same reason you're talking to me instead of falling asleep on your bike going back to your ridiculously easy to break into apartment?”

“You should respect my privacy no matter how easy it is to break into,” Tim grumbled under his breath. Silence filled the kitchen for several minutes before Tim spoke again. “So...you miss Damian, then?”

“Of fucking course I miss him,” Jason said without even the smallest hesitation, like that was the question he'd been waiting for ever since Tim walked in. And maybe it was. After all, Colin had been on Tim's mind pretty much non-stop since him and Damian both left on their— _stupid and unnecessary, high school is about crushing you down into a tiny ball of social stress so you're prepared to survive the academic stress of college, not broadening your horizons—_ school trip. He'd wanted to be distracted, but maybe Jason just wanted to vent? “This is the longest we've been away from each other since we got together, you know?”

As understanding and completely and totally _empathetic_ as Tim was towards Jason right now, he still had to stomp down on his urge to say something like “you might have built up a resistance if you didn't always drag Damian away on patrol and _do things_ to him against buildings”.

“I know,” is what he said instead.

“What about you?” Jason asked. “You miss your brat?”

“You _do_ realize that Colin's older than Damian, right? So if _I'm_ dating a brat—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Jason's a big giant pedo, I know.”

Tim blinked. “Where did that come from?”

Jason stared down into his mug before shrugging. “It's nothing.”

“Jason...” Tim frowned at him. Did he really think _anyone_ thought that about him? Especially after how he reacted when he thought Damian was calling him a pedophile. _Maybe that's_ why _he reacted so badly?_ And if that was the case, why was he admitting it to _Tim_? Tim's frown deepened, and not just because he was apparently Jason's one on one therapist along with being his couple's therapist. Jason and Tim's relationship mirrored Damian and Tim's in a lot of ways he was only just now realizing. They both had issues with Tim “replacing” them. They'd both tried to kill him on more occasions than Tim would like to remember (even though _Tim remembered everything_ ). And they both, in their own ways, for various reasons, had relied on Tim to get them through rough patches in their relationship. It was a very strange feeling, this sudden realization that, at some point over the past year, they'd all become...closer. Almost like a real family.

And it was pretty much Tim's job as Jason's younger brother to crush any delusions he might have about himself, regardless of whether those delusions were positive or negative.

“You're an idiot.”

Jason shifted his head towards Tim _just_ enough to glare at him. “Yeah?” he asked sharply.

“Yeah,” Tim answered, ignoring the warning— _the stupid warning, like I've ever been scared of Jason—_ in his voice. “You can't actually think anyone's ever thought of you as a pedophile.”

Jason snorted. “I appreciate the effort, but you're still full of shit.”

“I'm not!” Tim glared back. “No one ever said you were a pedophile for dating Damian, not even _Bruce,_ and he said some pretty dumb things when he found out.”

“Maybe they didn't say it, but they sure fucking thought it.” He paused, then turned fully towards Tim, sitting up and straightening his shoulders. “ _You_ thought it.”

“No I didn't.”

“Yeah you did. You told Dami—”

“I told Damian that I thought _I_ was a pedophile for being attracted to _Colin_. He asked me if I thought you were one and _I said no_ and then he told me I was being stupid because Colin was older and our age difference wasn't as big as you and Damian's and if I didn't think _you_ were a pedophile then I shouldn't think _I_ was one either.” Tim felt a stab of satisfaction at the surprised look on Jason's face. _This brother stuff is easier than I thought._ “Honestly, I've always thought you were attracted to Damian _despite_ his age, not because of it.”

Jason, to Tim's _indescribable_ surprise, actually seemed to be considering his words.

“Yeah?” he asked, after a long, contemplative silence.

“Yeah.” Tim nodded. Then pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Well, despite his age, his general attitude, his really unattractive scowling, the almost-incest thing, and a bunch of other things. I actually thought you were kinda crazy for liking him at all, until I saw you together a bunch of times and realized all the stuff you _do_ have in common.”

“Like what?”

Tim rolled his eyes at Jason's challenging tone. “Your horrible love of putting unnecessary hoods on costumes, for one.”

“Says the guy who wears fucking _bandoliers_ and doesn't even use guns.”

Tim did not respond to Jason's taunting. Tim deserved a freaking _award_ for the self control he'd been displaying in this conversation. “Your casual disregard for human life, for another. And your daddy issues with Bruce, although we all have that to some degree; your past history with Ra's and Talia; the way you both act like nothing can touch you, but you're really the most insecure and vulnerable out of all of us; your fears of being thrown aside; your need to be loved, which you both hide _really_ well by the way; the whole _dying_ thing; the way you both turn each other into actual human beings, even if it's only when you're alone together...I could go on, if you want?”

“Nah,” Jason said, glancing away again. He was silent for a long moment, seeming to turn Tim's words over in his head. “Should I be worried about how much you seem to know about us, though? Because if you've got some kind of weird threeway thing for us, I don't think I'd be into it.”

Even though Tim knew Jason was just deflecting because he can't handle talking about his feeling like normal people— _another thing you have in common with the demon-spawn—_ Tim couldn't hold back a small grimace.

“Ew. No. And I do have my own boyfriend, you'll remember,” Tim said.

“I dunno what orphan boy's into. And you both seem pretty interested in stalking us so...”

“I don't stalk you! And neither does Colin” Jason scoffed. “Okay, _maybe_ Colin does, but it's only for blogging purposes.”

“He better have knocked that shit off,” Jason muttered.

Tim rolled his eyes, totally unable to believe he was actually going to _defend_ this, but... “You don't get to dictate my boyfriend's hobbies any more than I get to dictate Damian's.”

_That's Bruce's job._

“I knew you were into it, too.” Jason smirked. “ _Stalker_.”

Tim crossed his arms. “I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“You just did, though.”

“Shut up.”

Thankfully they fell into another silence after that, because Tim was suddenly regretting letting the conversation shift away from a topic that made Jason uncomfortable.

“So, you're cool with me and Damian, then?” Jason asked several minutes later, completely out of nowhere. Tim furrowed his brows, thrown by the sudden question and the carefully neutral casualness with which it was asked. And the fact that it was being asked at all. He wondered if his approval was somehow important to Jason. It was a question he didn't have an answer for.

Thankfully, Tim didn't need to think too long about his answer to _Jason's_ question.

“Of course,” he said. “I mean, it was really, really weird at first, but now it would seem weirder if you weren't together.”

Tim was utterly _floored_ by the brief but undeniable look of relief and _bliss_ that crossed Jason's face.

“Even if I told you that what I miss most right now is plowing his tight ass?”

Tim was much _less_ floored by Jason's obscenity.

“Oh my god, ew!” Tim scowled. “Must you ruin what was almost a nice moment with vulgarity?”

Jason laughed. “Please, like you don't miss getting it on with Little Red.”

“N-no!” Tim sputtered. _Oh my god how is this even remotely a thing that were talking about right now?_ “I don't miss—I mean I'm not—there's _nothing to miss_.”

Now it was _Jason's_ turn to be completely shocked. “Wait, you're not having sex with him?”

“ _Of course not!_ ” Tim screeched. “Why would you even _think_ that? Oh god, _please_ tell me this isn't something you _think_ about!”

“Jesus! Calm the fuck down.” Jason stared at Tim like _Tim_ was the crazy one here. “You guys have been dating for, like, six months—”

“Six and a half,” Tim automatically corrected.

“Even worse. How the hell should I _not_ assume you're fucking?”

“You shouldn't be thinking about it at all!”

“I don't _think_ about it. It's just...how do you even hold out that long? Do you just jerk off like, ten times a day?”

Tim punched him hard in the shoulder. “ _Oh my god stop talking right now_. And _no_! God Jason, I was with Steph for over a _year_ and we never got past making out and one _really_ awkward attempt at a ...” Tim blushed horribly and made a jerking motion with his right hand.

Jason's eyes widened. “You were with _Steph_ for a year and never got past _hand jobs_?”

“...job. Singular.”

“Holy shit...” Jason stared at Tim like he was some kind of rare, exotic animal. “Babybird...are you still a _virgin_?”

Tim crossed his arms and looked away, trying to _will_ his cheeks not to get any redder. “Well I'm sure as heck not having sex in my _sleep_.”

“Oh.” Tim could hear Jason shifting on his stool. “Uh. Okay then.”

“Just go ahead and make fun of me,” Tim said bitterly.

“No, I'm not—I mean...” Jason took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just...assumed, you know?”

“You've been doing a _lot_ of that tonight.”

Surprisingly, Jason didn't snap back. “Yeah, guess so. Sorry. I won't make fun of you. It's just...surprising, you know? You're not ugly or anything, and there's never really been a shortage of people ready to jump into bed with rich guys who _aren't_ associated with the Wayne name. I just figured that even if you weren't into casual stuff, you would have tried it out at least once.”

“Well, I didn't.”

“Okay, okay! You don't need to get defensive. I'm not attacking you.”

Tim swallowed heavily. He wanted to believe that. Heck, he'd want to believe _anything_ that would stop this conversation in its tracks. It was just there was this whole lifetime of coolness and _adultness_ being tied to sex, and as much as Tim liked to think he was above feeling like this, it didn't change the fact that being in his mid twenties and still a virgin felt like something he should be ashamed of.

“It's fine,” he said eventually. He didn't _quite_ believe it, but he didn't want to talk about it either.

Unfortunately, Jason didn't seem to take the hint.

“So...are you like, asexual or something?”

Tim's head snapped around. To Jason's credit, he looked slightly awkward, but mostly just curious. Still, Tim couldn't held yelling. “No! I'm not—”

“Because it'd be totally cool if you were,” Jason cut in. He shrugged. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I know. But I'm not.”

“Ashamed? Because you seem—”

“I'm not _asexual_.” _I can't even believe I'm talking to Jason about this._ Still, no matter how embarrassing this was, it was probably best to clear up any misunderstandings before Jason could make any more _assumptions_. “I've been...you know, _aroused_ before.” Tim blushed again, but pressed on. “A lot, actually. I don't have any issues with that. And it's not like I don't _want_ to have sex. Someday. With the right person. I just want to _wait._ ” He almost left it there, because he _knew_ that what he was going to say next was going to come off as incredibly girly. Heck, he hadn't even been able to tell _Colin_ yet, but he kind of got the idea that Colin felt sort of the same way, so he'd never thought there was any need to, and now he was going to say it to _Jason..._ “It's just...you only lose your virginity once. I...kind of want it to be special. And preferably with someone I'm not going to break up with a few months after.”

“You don't think you and Colin are gonna last, then?” Jason asked, once again seeming genuinely surprised.

“It's impossible to tell,” Tim answered honestly. “I want us to. I _love_ him, and I'd love to be with him until I die.” Because Tim won't say forever. Forever isn't a concept any vigilante really believes in. But he can have realistic hopes, and his hope is that he can be with Colin for the rest of his life, no mater how many days, weeks, months or years it might last. “But we've been together for less than a year. And that's just dating. Most _marriages_ break up after fifteen years, and only about thirty three percent last for more than twenty five. And that's not even getting into how many non-marriage relationships break up after less than a year, _especially_ if the couple has sex too soon. I'm not saying I want to wait twenty five years before I have sex, but I don't think a few years is too much to ask before doing something so intimate. I want...I want to be able to enjoy it, instead of panicking about maybe losing someone I love the whole time.” Tim took a deep breath. “You can tell me how stupid I'm being, if you want. I _know_ it doesn't make any sense. But I can't help how I feel about it.”

“I already said I'm not gonna make fun of you,” Jason said. “And it's not stupid. I mean, okay, yeah, it's not what most people would say, but sex is personal, and however you wanna have it is up to you, not anyone else.”

Tim...would not have expected to hear that from Jason. Apparently his surprise showed on his face, because Jason just smiled wryly and shrugged.

“I may be a bit of a dick, but I'm not a total douchebag. Being pressured into doing shit before you're ready sucks, even if you're the one pressuring yourself. I'm actually kinda impressed that you're strong enough to stick with your beliefs.”

“Um...thanks.” Tim could feel his cheeks warming. Who knew Jason could be so...nice? _God, if he ever said anything like this to me back during The Crush I_ never _would have gotten over him..._

Thank god for small mercies.

“It's not just that, though,” Tim found himself saying, eager to distract himself from uncomfortable scenarios. “Pedophile thing aside, I don't think I'd ever be comfortable doing more than making out with a sixteen year old. And even that took a while to get used to.”

Jason cocked his head thoughtfully. “You know, if anyone else in this fucked up family had said that to me, it'd be full of all kinda of hidden censure and judgments and shit. Not you, though. You're actually a...pretty decent guy, babybird.”

 _Oh god, oh god, honest praise—abort! Abort! How the heck do I_ still _not know how to handle this?_

Tim prodded at the Bruce and Jack and Janet Drake-shaped scars on his psyche.

_Oh. Right._

“Um...” Tim swallowed and glanced away. He needed to get this blushing under control _right now_ because he wasn't entirely sure how much he was allowed to blush at another guy when his boyfriend was out of the country before it counted as cheating. Because he was _sure_ that line existed and he damn sure wasn't going to cross it.

Thankfully, before Tim could finish flicking through his tiny mental Rolodex of appropriate responses to awkward social situations (most of which he was dismayed to note were just as outdated as one might expect from someone who still visualizes possible actions in a _Rolodex_ ), the doorbell rang.

_Thank you dramatic timing!_

“I'll get it!” Tim said, before leaping off his stool and running to the front door.

Honestly, he'd expected to run into Alfred as soon as he got to the foyer and stopped by his “now Master Timothy I know you weren't just about to answer the door when you know full well that falls under the purview of my responsibilities” glare. It was very similar to the glare Tim got when he attempted to cook for other people in the manor, but slightly different, because Alfred at least had proof Tim was _capable_ of opening doors without causing some kind of disaster. However, to Tim's surprise, there was no Alfred in the foyer, and even though Tim waited until the doorbell rang two more times, he still didn't show.

_Bruce must be back. That's the only reason Alfred wouldn't be in the manor this early. I hope the robot-sized hole in the cave eats Bruce's heart out—_

Tim shook his head, and decided that he might as well answer the door now that he was here.

_Maybe the robot came back and wants to sit down for breakfast?_

Tim opened the door.

And saw two, decidedly non-robotic men standing on the other side.

The first one, who had apparently been just reaching out to ring the bell again, was a tall, redheaded man who seemed to be somewhere around Tim's age. He was dressed casually, in jeans, t-shirt and a light jacket that all looked comfortably worn-in. His bright green eyes widened when they saw Tim, and after a long moment of oddly  _not_ disturbing _staring,_ he ran his hand sheepishly over the back of his shortish hair. Tim frowned. The gesture was strangely familiar. In fact, the guy was strangely familiar too, like someone Tim knew once but hadn't seen in years. Like maybe Tim had forgotten him. Which was a very weird feeling for Tim to have, because Tim never forgot _anyone_.

“Of _course_ you're already making cow's eyes at each other,” the other man grumbled. “How disgustingly _predictable_.”

Tim blinked, and shifted his gaze to the incredibly rude second man.

And almost fainted.

 _This_ man looked nothing like the strangely familiar man. Barely taller than Tim—a full four inches shorter than Familiar Redhead—with a sleekly muscled build accentuated by the expensive, obviously tailored outfit that was anything _but_ casual or worn in. The black, long sleeve silk button down under the dark green waistcoat and form fitting pants looked like something Tim might wear to one of Wayne Enterprises less stuffy charity events, and it went perfectly with the upturned nose and the sneer he could see on the man's face.

A face that was in no way familiar, but still, somehow, completely recognizable.

“Be nice, Dami,” the redhead said with a sigh. He had a nice voice, not as high as Tim might have expected, but not so deep that it was unrecognizable either.

The second man—oh god, _Damian Wayne_ , looking ten years older and still somehow _exactly_ like the sullen boy who'd left the manor three days ago—scoffed. “Drake doesn't _age_. For all we know, he could still be a teenager and if I _don't_ treat him like dirt it might rip a hole in all of time and space.”

“You know that's not how it works,” the other man said patiently. “And you know _exactly_ how old he is when this happens.”

“Perhaps,” Damian said, running his eyes up and down Tim's body, paying special attention to his ratty jeans and bare feet, before shooting Tim a disgusted look. “It's not as if his dress sense ever improved.”

The other man shot Damian a glare and swatted him on the back of the head. Damian glowered at him, but to Tim's surprise made no move to hit him back.

Which was for the best, because there was no way Tim would be able to keep from smacking Damian _down_ if he laid a single finger on his boyfriend—whether said boyfriend was suddenly at least a decade older than he'd been the last time Tim saw him or not.

“Colin...” Tim said hesitantly. It wasn't exactly a question, but Colin still grinned and nodded.

“Hey Timmy,” he said, his voice so much like the Colin Tim knew, and yet laced with a quiet confidence he'd never heard from the younger Colin.

“We're from the future.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to everybody who gave me their thoughts and suggestions on how to continue/conclude this thing. I won't tell you exactly what I've decided, because that would spoil things (as if trash isn't spoiled by definition anyway) but I will say that we will only fall deeper into crack hell before things get better. So on that note, as you can probably tell, the next few chapters will be dealing with the theme of time shenanigans. Special thank you to Holmesz for reminding me how much I *love* time travel crack. Special apologies to everybody else, who now has to deal with some of the most self-indulgent garbage I've probably ever written. Enjoy!


	21. The Trouble With Time Part Two: Wherein Tim Disregards Back to the Future and Acquires Currency...In The Form of Important Knowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone!

Tim stared as Future Colin— _oh my god this is future Colin!—_ leaned in towards him, and he couldn't help taking a step back as this almost-stranger invaded his personal space. Colin's grin dimmed into an understanding smile. “This is a bit weird, huh?”

Tim nodded slowly. “Please tell me what's going on.”

“-tt- That should be _obvious_ Drake.”

“Your face is obvious,” Tim snapped back automatically.

Damian blinked, then frowned. “Apparently your insults have improved in the last ten years.”

He seemed disturbed by that, and Tim couldn't help but laugh.

“Oh god, this _is_ weird. Too weird.” Tim coughed as his laugh caught in his throat. “Maybe we should, uh, go inside or something?”

“I don't need an invitation to come into my own home.”

Despite saying that, Damian waited until Tim stepped back before stalking through the door and scowling at the foyer.

“This doesn't look any different.” He spun around and glared at Colin. “How have I never noticed that nothing ever changes in this house?”

Colin shrugged. “I'd say you're too self-absorbed, but you complained for three weeks about the new coffee machine at work and you don't even drink coffee, so...”

“It makes _noises_ around me.”

“It makes noises around everyone,” Colin said with a tiny smirk. “That's how you know it's working.”

Tim's heart skipped at _least_ three beats.

_Oh my god, when does Colin start smirking like that? And the sassy comments!_

He was apparently very weak for smirky, sassy Colin. Or his knees were, at least. Tim braced himself against the wall as they continued arguing.

“It makes _different_ noises around me. They're sinister noises. Someone has obviously rigged it to assassinate me.” Damian crossed his arms. “You are facilitating my eventual murder by refusing to take your breaks in my office.”

“Dami,” Colin said with the patient air of someone who was in the middle of a very old argument. “Everyone already thinks I only have my job because of my ' _connections to the Wayne family_ '. If I took my breaks in your office everyone would just think I was getting special treatment—”

“But you do get special treatment.”

“ _And,_ ” Colin glared, “if I was going to spend my breaks in _anyone's_ office it wouldn't be yours.”

Tim could have sworn that Colin glanced at him, but it was barely more than an eye flicker and even with all his _hyper-observantness_ Tim couldn't be sure.

“-tt-” Damian scowled at him again, but very quickly gave up and started looking around the manor again.

“Regardless, this place is dull and boring. Before we leave I'm redecorating, that way we can come home to something new.”

Tim coughed as he swallowed a laugh. _Oh god, interior decorator Damian is something I have to see._

“You know if you redecorate here it'll have been that way for ten years by the time we get back. And if we change something, you'll just remember it as if it already happened, so you'll still be bored no matter what,” Colin said.

Damian scoffed. “You don't know that.”

“Actually, I—”

“Whatever.” Damian waved his hand. “I don't care. Where is Jason?”

That last question was directed at Tim, who had almost forgotten he'd existed as he watched Damian and Colin's banter with undisguised fascination. _His_ Damian and Colin were so different. Okay, they still playfully argued, but his Colin was always so bright and sweet and Damian, despite being Colin's best friend for years, never really seemed to know how to handle him. At some point in the next ten years things changed, apparently.

And part of Tim was strangely uncomfortable with how close they seemed to be.

_Damian asked for Jason though, so...that's a good sign, right?_

Tim flushed slightly when he realized both of the future doppelgangers were looking at him expectantly.

_Right. I should answer the question._

He wondered if future!Tim ever learned to handle social situations.

“Uh, he's in the kitchen. It's right...where it always is,” he finished lamely.

A tiny, amused smile pulled at Colin's lips. Damian rolled his eyes, but took off in the direction of the kitchen without another word.

Tim blinked, then stared awkwardly at Colin.

“Um.” Tim swallowed, then swore mentally when he realized he had nothing to follow that up with.

_Why is this so weird? This is still Colin. I should be able to talk to him._

Except he really shouldn't? Because, really. He was talking to his _boyfriend from the future_. How does one train for this? The answer is that one doesn't. One cannot train for this. One cannot ever even imagine that this would be a thing that would _need_ to be trained for.

_Batman_ however, is most definitely not _one_. He is _legion_. He is an unstoppable force of justice and obsession and _dammit Bruce why didn't you ever prepare me for this!?_

Tim was face to face with a man who _knew his future_.

He didn't think he'd ever been more terrified in his life.

“So—”

“Let's check on Damian!” Tim yelled. Suddenly, Colin saying _anything_ seemed like a _horrible_ idea because he _suddenly knew why he was being so weird_.

Colin _knew the future_.

And when had the future ever held anything good for the Wayne family?

He didn't want to know who was alive in ten years. Who was dead. Who was hurt or broken or broken _up—_

Tim grinned somewhat manically at Colin's surprised expression, and raced away to the kitchen.

And was promptly faced with something else he never wanted to see.

“ _Oh my god_!” Tim shrieked. He slapped is hands over his eyes, but not before the image of Jason _grinding_ against Damian— _not Damian future!Damian what the fuck—_ on top of the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Really Dami?” Colin asked, sighing. He must have followed Tim and _why isn't he freaking out_?

“-tt-” There was a rustling sound, which Tim prayed to Cthulhu was Damian pulling his shirt _down_ instead of the rest of the way off. “I suppose five minutes of privacy in this house was always too much to ask.”

“ _Privacy?_ ” Tim's hands fell away from his eyes against his will, but the fictional Old One must have been listening to his prayer because Damian and Jason were only a bit ruffled, instead of halfway undressed. “I'm so sorry I didn't leave you two alone to continue on with your _adultery_.”

Jason at least had the good grace to look slightly uncomfortable.

Damian, however, just rolled his eyes.

Jason was obviously the one to work on, here.

“Yeah, Jason, adultery,” he said, answering the question Jason should have asked according to the mental script he was frantically writing. “You're cheating on your _boyfriend_ who's halfway across the world.”

“I _am_ his bo—”

“No you're not. You're his...nothing! You're his nothing. You're from the _future_. You're _future Jason's_ boyfriend. Or whatever. Not this one. He's going to break your heart and it'll be _all your fault_!”

Everyone seemed to take a minute to decipher exactly what that last sentence meant, Tim included. He nodded to himself when he was sure he'd gotten it right.

“Timmy...”

Tim glanced back at Colin, irrationally assuming that he'd have Tim's back because that was what a good boyfriend did, despite what he'd just said about future boyfriends only being boyfriends to their future boyfriends. So he was understandably shocked to see such a _hurt_ look on Colin's face.

_Oh. Right. I basically just said he wasn't my boyfriend, didn't I?_

Tim swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“You are an idiot, Drake,” Damian said. “I can assure you, my present self has absolutely _no_ problem with me taking pleasure in _our_ man.”

Tim bit his lip, but forced himself to look away from Colin.

“How can you possibly know that?” he asked quietly.

Damian let out a disgusted sigh. “Because _I used to be him_. I remember how he felt when Jason told him about this and he did not feel at all betrayed. Jason is mine and I am his, no matter what day, month, or year it is. Maybe the idea of such a commitment is too deep and meaningful for someone as shallow as you to—”

“Dami!” Colin glared. “Stop.”

“He _hurt_ you—”

“That doesn't make it okay for you to hurt him,” Colin said calmly. “Besides, you just started getting along with Timmy back home. You don't wanna go right back to fighting when you get back, do you?”

Tim blinked. _It takes ten years for us to get along together?_

That thought...was kinda sad, actually. Especially since he thought they'd been making progress recently.

“-tt- Whatever.” He crossed his arms and pouted slightly, which was somehow more cute on a twenty five year old than it was on a nearly sixteen year old.

Another awkward silence settled over the kitchen until Jason and Damian started murmuring quietly together. Tim wasn't actually trying to eavesdrop, but it was so quiet he couldn't help overhearing most of it.

“You really don't think I'm cheating?” Jason asked. “I mean, my you, or now you, or...fuck this is confusing.”

Damian's lips twitched. “Neither of us do. We know you love us, and would never betray us on purpose. I...probably should have made that clear before attacking you.”

Jason chuckled. “I wasn't exactly complaining at the time.”

“Twelve years together is more than enough time to figure out the best ways to distract you.”

Jason rested his forehead against Damian's before asking softly, “We're still together then? In your time?”

Damian sighed and quickly glanced at Colin. Tim thought he knew why, too. Telling someone from the present too much about the future could change it in ways no one could anticipate. He was still surprised that Damian would keep something from Jason, though. Apparently he'd matured in the future.

“Of course we're together,” Damian said after a small hesitation and a crestfallen look on Jason's face.

_Apparently not_.

“Yeah?” Jason asked, smiling.

“As if I would ever allow you to leave me,” Damian grumbled, pulling him into a tight hug.

Tim looked away. He didn't like that hug. It was too much like the hugs he'd given Kon and Bart after he'd thought they were dead, too much like the hug he'd given Bruce after he was rescued from the past. There was too much _I missed you_ and _never leave me again_ in that hug for Tim to be comfortable with it.

He didn't want to know what was going to happen to Jason in the future to bring that kind of hug out of Damian.

Colin caught his eye when he turned around and gently motioned towards the door. Tim hesitated, still so very scared of being alone with him, but when Colin turned to go, he followed. They walked for a short while before Colin opened the first door they came to and went in. It was a small sitting room that no one ever used but Alfred still kept obsessively clean.

_Obsession? In Wayne Manor? No way._

Tim covered up his laugh with a cough.

“Jason's gonna be okay,” Colin said, startling Tim out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

Colin smiled slightly. “It's one of the first things you told me to tell you after Jay and Dami talked for the first time.”

“ _Talked_?” Tim raised an eyebrow.

“That's what you said.” Colin fixed him with a mock glare. “You _could_ have told me what I'd be walking in on, you know.”

_If I don't get time to prepare for that then no one does._

He was pretty sure Future Tim thought the exact same thing. It was kind of comforting to know he was still the same person in ten years.

“That...sounds like something I would do,” he said, smiling. It didn't last long, though. “So Jason's okay?”

“He _will be_ ,” Colin said. “When we get back.”

Tim frowned. “I don't like the way that sounds.”

“I know,” Colin said quietly. “But I really can't tell you any more than that. Just that what we're doing here has something to do with making sure Jason's okay in the future. If you know any more, you might try to change things and that could screw things up even more.”

Tim wanted to argue in the worst way, wanted to _know_ , but he swallowed his protests. “I know,” he said instead. “I saw the Butterfly Effect.”

“I know. You made me watch it with you.” Colin paused. “I liked the remake better.”

“They _remade it_?” Tim asked, horrified.

Colin bust out laughing. “Oh my god, your _face_!”

Tim crossed his arms and glared. “Current you isn't this mean to me.”

Colin smirked. “That's because current me is still a bit terrified that you'll break up with him. I, on the other hand, have _no_ such hang ups.”

Tim felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest. And he knew _exactly_ how that felt. “You...think I'm gonna leave you?”

Colin paled. “No! Not like—” He swore under his breath, which just drove home once again how different Future Colin was than his Colin. “This is really a conversation you need to have with me—past me I mean. But—”

Colin ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“It's so hard to make you feel better when I can't just _tell_ you things,” he muttered.

“You...” Tim swallowed. “You know I love you though, right?”

Maybe he didn't? It had only been a few weeks since the Bane thing when Tim first said that he loved Colin. Colin seemed to believe it at the time, if their incredibly-embarrassing-to-be-walked-in-on make out session after Colin got a new cast put on was any indication. But maybe he thought Tim would change his mind?

Colin started to smile, but it slipped away almost before it could form. “Oh. Present me.”

Tim's heart broke, just a bit. “No,” he said, making a choice. Snap decisions had about a fifty-fifty change of working out in Tim's favor, but he knew this was the right thing to do. “Both of you.”

“Really?” Colin blinked away what Tim was horrified to see were the beginnings of tears.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “I...it hurts just as much to see _you_ hurting as it does to see my— _present_ you hurting.” He shrugged awkwardly. “I guess every Colin is _my_ Colin.”

And apparently that was all it took to have an armful of Colin latching on to Tim's neck. Tim stiffened at first, but it didn't take long to realize this hug was so much different from the one he saw in the kitchen. There wasn't any pain behind it. Well, not _that_ kind of pain, anyway. It was like any other hug he'd had with Colin after a fight or a nightmare or a misunderstanding.

He slid his arms around Colin's waist and hugged him back.

“To answer your question, I...” Colin started. He seemed like he was looking for the right words. “This _really_ is a conversation you need to have with present me, and I can't say if you will or not, but...it has nothing to do with you, okay? It's just my insecurities acting up.”

“If you say so,” Tim said, trying not to sound _too_ sullen.

He really, _really_ wanted to push, but he knew it was a bad idea. Instead, he made a mental note to bring this up when Present Colin came home. For now, he was just gonna enjoy his hug

Because he was wrong earlier. This hug wasn't _exactly_ like any other hug. This Colin was ten years older, ten years more _mature_ than his Colin. Tim was used to skinny arms and a lanky body that was only about half an inch taller than him. Future Colin was still a bit lanky, but that was where the similarity ended. He was tall enough for Tim's nose to be crushed against his Adam's apple, and the arms that held him definitely had more muscle than Tim remembered. Future Colin was starkly different from Present Colin, but to Tim's surprise he found he was equally happy with both of them.

“Puberty obviously went really well for you,” he murmured into Colin's neck.

_Let's file this under Things Normal People Never Say To Their Boyfriends._

Colin laughed. Much harder than Tim thought his almost-joke deserved, actually. He pulled back slightly.

“Are you okay?”

Colin shook his head. “Yeah. It's just, you say that all the time in the future, but it always seems like there's an inside joke I'm not getting when you say it, and it's kinda been driving me crazy for years.”

“And you finally got the joke?”

“Yup.” Colin beamed. “I finally got it.”

Colin's happy smile hadn't changed at all, and Tim found himself wanting to kiss it in the worst way. He didn't, though. Damian might be okay with his future self mauling his boyfriend, but he had no idea how Colin would feel about Tim kissing another man, even if they were technically the same person.

Time travel was very confusing and Tim decided that he hated it.

Instead of kissing him, Tim let him go and stepped out of the hug. He immediately regretted it. He'd been without _any_ Colin hugs for way too long, and he wasn't nearly masochistic enough enjoy denying himself that kind of pleasure.

Colin looked disappointed that Tim wasn't in his arms anymore, which wasn't doing _anything_ to make this not kissing thing any easier. So, of course, _that's_ when his stupid, _traitorous_ brain thought it would be a good time to tap him on the shoulder and helpfully inform him that _this_ Colin may be many things, but _underage_ definitely wasn't one of them.

He beat that thought unconscious, zip tied it, and left it in the middle of Crime Alley without calling the cops.

_You are not going to get_ all up on _your future boyfriend less than twenty minutes after having a horrible, embarrassing conversation with Jason about wanting to wait for_ years _._ Tim nodded to himself. _Definitely not. It doesn't matter how devastatingly attractive he is. I'm around devastatingly attractive people every day and I don't want to jump into their lap and_ grind my— _stop thinking about it! It's not happening!_

Tim nodded again.

“Why are you nodding?” Colin asked.

“I'm not having sex with you!” Tim blurted.

Colin's eyes slowly widened. “Um...”

“I mean...” Tim...had no idea how to finish that sentence.

“I wasn't expecting you to?” Colin said slowly.

“Good.” Tim nodded _again._ “That's. Good. Okay. Because, you know. I figure if I'm gonna lose my virginity it should be with a version of you that's, you know, also a virgin. And a bit more underage— _Ididn'tmeanitlikethat!_ ”

Colin seemed like he didn't know whether to laugh or slowly start backing out of the room. Tim didn't blame him. If he could back away from himself he would have done it _years_ ago.

Tim took a deep breath. “I just meant that, I don't want my first time to be with a you that already had our first time.” He paused. “Although, that's kind of an assumption, isn't it? I mean, maybe we never—”

“We did!” Now it was Colin's turn to blurt. He flushed. “I...shouldn't have said that.”

_Probably not_.

For so many reasons. Mostly because now Tim couldn't stop thinking about it. Was it perfect? Candles and bath salts and romantic music? Or was it rushed and spontaneous? Dirty and against an alley wall surrounded by needles and used condoms and maybe a hobo or two who may or may not be alive and—

And Tim really needed to stop picturing it.

“Um. Good,” he said.

Except it wasn't, not really, because now that he had one, tantalizing glimpse into his future, no amount of time travel understanding or Back to the Future marathons warning about the dangers of ruining the future could keep him from asking the one question he'd been dying to know ever since he realized exactly where this Colin came from.

“Are we...still together?” he asked. “In your time?”

Colin didn't seem at all surprised by the question. In fact, he seemed more resigned than anything.

“I really shouldn't tell you too much,” he said, smiling sadly. “It could...really mess things up.”

Tim panicked. _Oh god, that's a bad smile. We're broken up, aren't we? I bet I was the one who ruined it. Maybe Colin got tired of dealing with me. Or maybe he learned that I almost propositioned his future self. Or maybe he just grew up and got incredibly hot and realized he could do_ so much better _than me—_

“Don't be ridiculous,” Damian said, startling Tim out of his train of thought. He spun around and saw that Damian was leaning against the door they'd forgotten to close, a contemptuous scowl on his face. “I've already told Jason more than enough to destroy the future, if that's what's going to happen.”

He and Colin seemed to have a silent battle of wills, before Damian clicked his tongue and focused his attention on Tim.

“You've been married for years,” he said. “Your wedding was insipid and I fell asleep halfway through your boring and cliched vows. The only marginally entertaining part was watching the clone make a fool out of himself with his awful best man's speech.”

“Dami!” Colin glared at him before turning back to Tim and giving him a somewhat sheepish smile. _He looks so different, but that smile is one hundred percent my Colin._ “Don't listen to him. Kon's speech was...sweet.” _Oh my god what was that hesitation?_ “And,” Colin smirked at Damian, “you were crying into Jason's shoulder when we exchanged our vows.”

Tim's eyes widened as a small blush dusted Damian's cheeks.

“I was weeping at the thought of the Wayne name being associated with the two of _you_ ,” he said, scowling at nothing in particular.

Tim couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at his lips.

“Have you at least told him why we're here yet?” Damian asked, obviously eager to change the subject.

“I mentioned what I could,” Colin said, all traces of teasing gone from his voice.

“-tt- So no, then.”

“Dami,” Colin said patiently. “You know we can't say anything else. We already did it, we're only riding the rest of the timeslip out. We're not _here_ to change anything.”

“ _You're_ not,” Damian said, crossing his arms. “ _I_ already have.”

Colin stared at him in horror. “Dami,” he whispered. “What did you do?”

“I told Jason everything.”

“You _what_?” Colin shrieked. “But we—”

“But nothing,” Damian cut him off. “I don't care if we change the future. I _want_ to change the future.”

“But you didn't!” Colin protested. “If you changed it I'd remember.”

Damian nodded. “I'm aware. Telling Jason isn't enough. That's why I'm going to tell Drake, and Father, and Pennyworth, and my younger self, and anyone else we come across before our time here is over.”

Colin sputtered. Damian ignored him, and turned to Tim.

“Jason Todd is dead,” he said bluntly. Tim stopped breathing. “He died four months ago in the time that I come from. At some point over the next ten years he contracts HIV from a blood transfusion. Because he is Jason and his physiology has been forever changed from dying and being immersed in a Lazarus Pit, he hasn't had an extensive medical exam in over fifteen years. The HIV went untreated, eventually became AIDS, and he died from it.”

Only Damian, Tim thought, could talk about his lover dying in such clinical, detached terms even as his eyes welled up with tears.

He knew he should stop listening. He _knew_ exactly what he was risking by knowing so much about the future. The smart thing to do would be to trust that Colin was right when they said they'd fixed the problem, then plug up his ears, sing as loud as he could, and avoid Damian until whatever brought them here took them back. All he would have to do is live the next ten years knowing that Jason was going to die. All he would have to do was watch _his_ Damian smile his tiny little smiles and laugh those carefree laughs he only let out around Jason, watch Damian turn into a real boy and grow into a man with Jason by his side, knowing all the while that he was going to lose the love of his life.

Sometimes, Tim was _really_ glad no one in this family ever did the smart thing.

“How do we stop it from happening?” Tim asked.

Colin sighed, but didn't bother with any other protests. Not surprising, he'd had ten years to learn not to argue with Tim's _I will go down with this ship_ tone.

Damian flashed him a wolfish grin before getting down to business. “We don't know exactly when he contracts the infection, but we've narrowed it down to eleven possible events. Seven of these events occur overseas away from adequate medical facilities, and the rest happen during back alley 'treatments' because Jason is too stubborn to ask Father for help. He's already promised me that he wouldn't be that stubborn in the future, but I still remember his death without any overlapping memories, so either he didn't get infected during those times, or he breaks his promise to me. Since I trust him not to break his promise, it must have happened during one of his overseas trips.”

Tim really didn't want to cut in, but he couldn't help asking, “And...you're _sure_ it was a blood transfusion, right?”

Damian's eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

“You know exactly what I'm implying.” Damian took a step forward, but Tim pressed on. “And don't give me that look, if he cheated on you then nothing we're talking about now is gonna help anything. You need to at least consider—”

“We did consider it,” Colin said gently. “It...Jason said...”

“He said that he _wished_ he would have gotten infected by cheating on me,” Damian said, staring directly at the wall. “Because then he would at least die knowing that he deserved it.”

There were so many arguments Tim could make. That Jason was only saying that so Damian wouldn't have to suffer knowing that his dying boyfriend cheated on him. That Jason was trying to take his betrayal to the grave. But, he knew Jason. He knew that Jason had died once with regrets and things he'd never said. He couldn't imagine any time in any world where the Jason Todd he knew would say something like that if it wasn't true.

“Okay,” Tim said. “So we have to watch him whenever he goes overseas.”

“Yes,” Damian said, somewhat stiffly. “And if he does, we make sure to bring blood that we know to be clean with us. Preferably we would avoid any situation where he would lose so much blood in the first place—”

“But this is Jason,” Tim finished with a quick smirk.

Damian glanced back at him for a moment and nodded. “Yes. This is Jason.”

“Okay,” Tim said. “I'll do it. I won't let him out of my sight, no matter what happens. You're not going to lose him, Damian. I promise.”

_If just one person in this family can be spared the pain of losing somebody they love, then risking the future is worth it._

For the first time in Tim's life, Damian smiled _at him_.

“Thank you, Timothy,” he said softly.

Tim coughed, his throat suddenly suspiciously tight.

_Oh no. You are not going to cry over the demon-spawn saying your_ name _._

“No problem,” he said, as cool as he possibly could.

“Well, there is one problem,” Colin said reluctantly. “We still don't have any new memories.”

Damian scowled. “I know.”

Tim didn't ask what they meant. He knew enough time travel theory to know that, according to some theorists, a person who goes to the past and changes the future wouldn't have their memories of the previous future erased. Instead, they'd have two overlapping sets of memories. One from the unchanged future, and one from the new one that they'd just created. Everyone in the future would only have the new set of memories, though. It wasn't exactly the most in favor theory, but maybe that changes in ten years?

Still, there was one possibility that Tim had to bring up.

“I kind of hate to ask this, but...do you even know if it's _possible_ to change the future? I mean, if you came into the past for the specific purpose of changing the future, once the thing you wanted to change was changed, you'd have no reason to travel into the past in the first place. It'd be a paradox, and unless you've invented a Paradox Machine in the future...”

Damian shook his head. “That doesn't apply.”

Tim blinked. “Why not?”

“Because we didn't travel into the past to change the future,” he said.

“But you just said—”

“We didn't time travel on purpose,” Damian said.

“...so, what? You just...fell into a time warp and decided to change the future after the fact?”

Damian scoffed. “Once again it amazes me how I never noticed that you're actually _intelligent_ in my time. I know for a fact that you've already encountered other people displaced in time. Surely you don't think we all invented time machines and used them to jump into the same twenty four hour period on a whim?”

Tim tried to will himself not to flush. He _had_ forgotten about that, actually.

_At least I'm over the robot..._

“So...it's some kind of...time event, then?” he asked.

To his surprise, Damian nodded. “Actually yes. It was a Crisis.”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “ _Another_ one?”

Damian snorted. “Yes. This one, however, was somewhat different. Instead of crushing all reality together into two or three more manageable, easy to navigate realities, this Crisis was more of a Convergence.”

“Convergence?” Tim asked.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “You have a problem with the term?”

Tim shrugged. “It just sounds like a pretentious way to say 'we have no idea what to call this thing but we really want it to sound important so people think we put effort into it'.”

Damian scowled. “Well that's not what it is. The Convergence was a real event, no matter how much we might want to pretend it wasn't.”

“Okay, okay,” Tim said. “So what did this Convergence do?”

“As I said,” Damian continued after another glare, “it wasn't a _real_ Crisis. It's goal was to erase all reality before picking and choosing what bits it wanted to save. It would then rewrite them so that they're almost unrecognizable from what they once were before shoving them into one, brand new reality that was just different enough from the _real_ reality that any outside observer would know something was wrong, while still being able to see frustrating glimpses of the reality they'd known and cherished.”

Tim tried to process that.

“That...is the dumbest thing I've ever heard,” he said finally.

“Exactly,” Damian agreed. “Who wants their entire reality replaced by a cheap knockoff? We certainly didn't, so we figured out how to stop it.”

“You should have seen some of the crappy replacements we came across before we shut the whole thing down” Colin said, shuddering. “And you definitely don't want to know what New Tim was wearing as a Red Robin costume. Jason as a priest was kinda funny, though.”

“Seriously?”

Colin nodded.

“ _As I was saying_ ,” Damian cut in. “We stopped the idiotic Convergence, but doing so caused a ripple that spread through time as our real realities realigned themselves. The ripple opened up cracks, and some people fell through temporarily. Since we'd always known we were going to be traveling through time because you and Jason tell our younger selves, we made plans to try and save Jason's life. We were at the heart of our reconstructed reality, so we ended up stopping three times as we fell, instead of one. Once was two years before our time, where we found Jason and got him treatment before his HIV turned to AIDS. I have two years of new memories. If we go back now, he will be alive and waiting for me.

“But there is still no cure for HIV. I do not want to live the rest of my life terrified that Jason's treatment might fail, and I might lose him again. And I doubt he would wish to live fearing the same thing about me, too.”

It hit Tim, then, like it should have back when Damian first told him Jason had HIV. As far as he knew, Jason and Damian had never used condoms. Which means that if Jason had a sexually transmitted disease...

“You have it too,” Tim whispered.

Damian nodded once. “I have been getting treatment ever since Jason was diagnosed with AIDS.”

“Damian...”

“Do not _pity_ me Drake,” he snarled.

“I wasn't,” Tim said, glaring. “Can't I take a few seconds to be upset that my brother has a really awful disease?”

“-tt-”

Tim rolled his eyes. _Guess not._

“All right,” he said a moment later. “So since you're traveling through time by accident, there's no paradox since you'd still be traveling no matter what you change.”

“Yeah,” Colin said when Damian refused to answer. “That's pretty much it. We only wanted to save Jason's life by getting him treatment, and really even that was dangerous to try, but I guess we're just ignoring everything Bruce drilled into our heads now.”

“If Father always made the best decisions none of us would have been teenage vigilantes.”

There...really wasn't any arguing with that.

“So what do we do now?” Tim asked. “If telling me didn't keep Jason healthy...”

“Then we just have to tell everyone else and hope one of them triggers the new memories.”

Tim nodded. “But how long do you have? I mean, none of the other time travelers stayed very long.”

“At least until the present us's get back,” Colin said. Then he added under his breath, “And you're really not gonna like finding out how we know that.”

Before Tim could ask what he meant by _that_ , a loud “what the _fuck_ ” came from the direction of the kitchen.

Tim barely had enough time to be surprised at the sheer panic that flew across Damian's face before he shot out the door. He exchanged worried looks with Colin before running after him, Colin on his heels.

Heart pounding, Tim burst into the kitchen, ready for all kinds of horrors because it was just that kind of day—only to stop short at the sight in front of him as Colin crashed into his back. He was halfway to the ground before his future boyfri— _husband holy crap I have I husband sort of how is this just hitting me now?_ —grabbed him and pulled him up— _oh my god when did Colin get so strong?—_ before setting him back on his feet. He glanced over his shoulder just long enough to smile in gratitude before turning back to the scene in the kitchen.

Damian had apparently leaped in front of Jason and taken up a protective stance, most likely before he even realized what was going on. That was the only explanation Tim had for why Damian was snarling at a very bemused looking Alfred as the butler balanced a small, dark haired toddler in a tiny little suit on his hip.

A toddler who was glaring right back at Damian with a pair of incredibly familiar blue eyes.

“Wobin,” the toddler said, surprisingly strong even with the slight lisp. The boy cleared his throat with a scowl that was _just_ on the right side of _the world will conform to my wishes right now or I will tear it apart_ to not be considered an adorable pout. “ _Robin_ ,” he tried again, forcing the proper pronunciation out through what seemed like a sheer force of will.

Damian froze, then, very slowly his eyes widened. Tim's eyes shot back and forth between him and the kid, taking in the way Damian automatically relaxed his posture at the same time as he took in the way said relaxing did absolutely nothing to lessen the look of suspicion and distrust on the boy's face.

And, just like that, Tim knew exactly who the toddler was.

Apparently, so did Damian.

“Father?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this was supposed to be crack. Crack! Just lighthearted time travel stuff that's fun and funny but it won't. Stop. Trying. To turn. Into. A plot. Whatever. Baby Bruce, it's all up to you to save this from turning into total melodrama in the next chapter.
> 
> Don't let me down, Batbaby.


	22. The Trouble With Time Part Three: Wherein Bruce is a Baby and Tim Isn't Allowed to Enjoy It

Once everyone got back from Europe, or back _to_ the future, or reaged or deaged or whatever the _heck_ had to happen for Tim's life to return to normal, he was going to institute a new rule.

_No one was ever allowed to leave the manor after Tim showed up and before he left._

Because Tim made a point to only ever come to the manor when the ratio of people he could deal with vs people who _vexed him_ were favorable. And when people suddenly decided to leave? It totally screwed with his ratios.

Case in point: The only three people currently still in the manor tonight were future Damian, Baby Bruce, and _Tim_.

Alfred had gone out about an hour ago to pick up baby supplies—and having to listen to a twenty minute argument between him and a tiny little toddler who was still Bruce in every other way about whether or not the tiny little toddler Bruce needed to wear diapers was _not_ on the top of Tim's List Of Things He's There For. (Especially since the argument ended in Alfred's favor because “accidents happen Master Bruce and you currently cannot...” followed by a whole bunch of really inventive, classy euphemisms for _wipe your own ass_.) Once that was settled, and because even though he and Bruce mostly made up for Damian's sake, Jason was still Jason and he had very specific feelings on the Bruce issue, Superman himself couldn't have held Jason back from going _diaper shopping_ for him (“Don't worry Bruce, I'll make sure Al gets you some with Hello Kitty on them. It'll be just like you're dating Selina again. Hey Al, since he's underage now which one of us do you think is his legal guardian?”) and so he was gone too. And since there was no way Damian was going to go shopping for baby stuff for his own dad, and Tim had a similar idea before he realized he'd be left alone with _them_ , Colin had been the one who went with Jason to look after him. Because apparently being the focus of a quest to change the future tended to make the universe a bit pissed, and weird Final Destination-like happenings weren't exactly outside the realm of possibility until they got this whole thing cleared up.

And Dick, the one who would have _killed_ to be here doing this, was off in outer space helping Roy with some kind of Justice League space thing. The kind that Tim never got invited to because he would enjoy it too much. He assumed, anyway. Dick knew what was happening, though, and there were probably laws of physics being broken at that very moment as Dick tried to bend time to get home faster. Steph was with Cass and Cass was traveling...somewhere. He'd honestly lost track of the postcards because half of them get sent to the manor and half to Tim's _old_ apartment and he can't be bothered to try and organize them by date. Especially since Steph liked to draw lewd pictures on most of them.

Which left Tim and Damian alone to take care of Bruce.

“Father, your tiny body is too immature to handle steak. Eat your baby food.”

Bruce, sitting on a stack of books because _no high chair_ and he was too small to see above the edge of the table without a boost, scowled. _At Tim._

“No.” Baby Bruce crossed his arms. Or tried to. He hadn't quite gotten control of his underdeveloped motor functions yet.

“ _Yes_ ,” Damian insisted. He held the spoon of mashed, congealed...stuff—honestly, Tim had no idea why they had baby food or even how old the crap was, Bruce might have been perfectly justified in not letting it anywhere near his mouth—up to Bruce's mouth. “Do not force me to make airplane noises.”

Tim choked.

_Okay, maybe there's at least one upside here._

“If you do you're benched for the next _year_.”

“In case you've forgotten, you aren't _my_ Father. You can't punish me because I'm going back to the future next week.”

“I can punish _my_ Damian,” Bruce said in his best attempt as the Batman voice. It was oddly intimidating. _Adorable as all get out,_ but still intimidating. “From what you and Colin towd— _told_ me, you'll be able to remember it. And then when you get back, I'll bench you for _another_ year.”

Damian's eyes narrowed, probably because he was trying to figure out if there was any way Bruce was stubborn enough to hold on to a grudge for a _decade_ and punish Damian right after he comes back from a quest through time to save Jason's life.

He slowly lowered the spoon.

“Please tell me you're not actually going to give him steak?” Tim asked.

And, oh the _glare_ he got for that. Toddlers should not be this intimidating.

“What could it hurt?” Damian asked with a disturbingly Jason-like shrug.

“I'm pretty sure it could kill him.”

“It won't kill me.”

“I'm not sure it will kill him.”

“You're just saying that because you're scared of him.”

Baby Bruce fixed Tim with a _look_ that very clearly said “and you're not?”

“No Bruce, I'm not.” Tim crossed his arms and raised a single eyebrow just because he could and Baby Bruce couldn't. “Because unlike Damian, _I've planned for this._ Okay, maybe not specifically _this,_ but I don't need the cave or the manor. I've got my own safe houses, all fully stocked with tech and extra costumes, two of which _you don't even know about_. You have _nothing to threaten me with_. So eat your congealed vomit food and maybe if you're good I'll let you have a spoonful of ice cream for dessert.”

Bruce snarled at him, actually _snarled_. It was adorable on his little baby face.

“Damian,” Tim said sternly. “Feed him.”

“Drake—”

“If you think Bruce can hold a grudge for ten years I just want you to remember one thing. _I'm going to outlive him._ And there is no way I'm going to _wait_ ten years to start making you _suffer_. So feed. Your. Father. His. Baby food!”

Damian glanced back and forth between Tim and Bruce for a long time.

Then he raised the spoon again.

It probably shouldn't have surprised him that it was then, right as Tim was on the cusp of _finally_ having his independence acknowledged by Bruce and his natural authority acknowledged ( _stop laughing Jason and Steph_ ) by Damian, that the kitchen door opened and five masked men armed with machine guns walked inside.

Everyone, intruders, Bruce, Damian, Tim, just sort of stopped and _stared_ at each other.

“Oh come _on!_ ” Tim threw his hands up. “ _I was just about to win_.”

Of course, his outburst snapped everyone out of their _what even the heck is this_ stupor. Damian got into a defensive crouch, reversing his grip on the spoon and holding it up like he was getting ready for a knife fight. As if that wasn't ridiculous enough, the baby food slid off and hit the floor with a splat. While that was going on, Bruce twisted on top of his pile of books and tried to stand on them, only to fall to his knees— _because you're a baby Bruce you can't actually fight off armed intruders—_ almost upsetting the whole pile as he did so. Tim tensed up and assessed the situation, realizing that they were all too far away, out-manned, and outgunned to actually do anything right about the time all five men raised their guns and simultaneously aimed at them.

“Nobody move!” one of them said, and, _dear god Tim was going to have to come up with names for them all wasn't he_?

“What are you doing here?” another one—this one sounded nervous and scared, and he was kinda short, so Tim decided to call him Johnny. Because Jervis Tetch was short and twitchy and he calls himself the Mad Hatter and Johnny Depp _plays_ the Mad Hatter in the movie and—

Tim has no idea why he's justifying his mental names to himself.

“We live here,” Tim said as calmly as he could before Damian could open his mouth and say anything that...well, _anything_ really.

Johnny blinked rapidly behind his ski mask.

“You said this place was gonna be _empty_ ,” he hissed at the first intruder to speak—who Tim christened Kirk, because he was obviously the leader of this away team. “No one is supposed to be here!”

“It was supposed to be,” Kirk hissed back. “The intel didn't say anything about Bruce Wayne taking in some gay couple with a kid—”

Tim and Damian exploded into denials at the same time.

“Ew! What the heck? No way!”

“That is disgusting!”

“I wouldn't date him if you paid me—”

“Drake is soft and feminine and in no way fit to—”

“—never kiss because I _know where that mouth has been—_ ”

“—can barely handle himself let alone an actual child—”

“—enough pseudo-incest issues in this family already—”

“—has never even read _The Art of War—_ ”

“—stuck up, time traveling snob—”

A loud _crack_ echoed through the kitchen as Kirk fired off a round into the ceiling.

“ _Shut up!_ I don't fucking care, just, nobody say another word or the next shot will go right through your head!” He shook his gun for emphasis.

Tim glared at Damian, who glared right back, but neither one of them said anything.

“Good,” Kirk said. “Now, we didn't expect anybody to be here, _but_ ,” he added forcefully when it looked like Johnny was about to say something, “since you _live here_ , one of you won't mind opening up the infamous Wayne family safe for us, would you?”

Tim cocked his head. “The _what_?”

Kirk scowled. “Before you try and play stupid with me, you might wanna remember that we have the guns here. And we don't need you to open the safe. But if you aren't gonna be helpful...well.” He placed the rifle firmly against his shoulder and aimed it directly at Tim's head. “There's no point in any of us wasting our time guarding a bunch of hostages when it's quicker and easier to pull the trigger a few times, is there?”

Tim almost rolled his eyes. As far as theatrical villain threats went, it was pretty generic, and definitely _deserved_ as eye roll, but he didn't want to antagonize Kirk and the rest of the crew. The sad fact was there was no way for him and Damian to take these guys down without being killed themselves. The best chance they had was stalling until Alfred got back with Jason and Colin. The only problem with that plan was...

“Look,” Tim said, holding his hands up and trying to be as placating as possible. “I really don't wanna die in Bruce's kitchen, but there hasn't been a safe in Wayne manor in over a decade.” Unless the Cave counted as a “safe”, but if these guys knew about the Cave then Tim had a feeling they'd be having a totally different conversation right now. “Maybe...whoever told you about it was lying?”

“Don't bullshit me, kid.” Kirk tightened his finger around the trigger just enough for Damian to start to jerk forward and for Tim to start getting _really_ annoyed and a little bit nervous. _I don't wanna die without seeing_ my _Colin again._ It was especially frustrating because if the kitchen table was just five feet closer to the door, and thus the intruders, they'd have been able to disarm them with no problems other than explaining to the police how Brucie Wayne's spoiled son, Wayne Enterprise's “pretty boy” CEO and a baby took out five armed men.

“I'm not,” Tim said quickly, shooting Damian a glare that hopefully said _don't try anything stupid_ and not _please launch yourself at the men holding automatic weapons._ “I swear to god there isn't any safe here. Bruce keeps all his money and valuables in the bank.”

“And how would you know that?” Johnny asked suddenly. “You his banker or something? Or maybe his boy toy?”

“I'm his adopted son,” Tim snapped, trying not to _throw up in his mouth_ at the insinuation.

Sure, having a pubescent crush on the Bat was kind of a right of passage for every Robin who _wasn't_ Damian, but the idea of actually being in a _relationship_ with someone who thinks secretly switching all the coffee to decaf and forcing a fourteen year old kid to work on solving three different serial murder cases at once until he passed out from exhaustion is the proper way to handle nightmares caused by _severe emotional trauma_ is just. Ugh. _No_.

Kirk's eyes narrowed. “You think you're funny, kid?”

“No! I'm telling the truth!”

“Bruce Wayne's barely _twenty_ years old, kid's a kid himself, and he _doesn't_ have any adopted sons.”

And that was when Tim realized just how screwed they actually were. Because if these guys were from the past then they were working with incredibly outdated information that might actually be one hundred percent legitimate in _their_ time. If they were just a crew that got taken advantage of by some shady intel broker there would be a chance that they'd be so angry once they realized they'd been tricked that they'd leave to go get their revenge. But if they had intel that they _knew_ was accurate, along with knowledge and research on their target from two decades ago, there was no way Tim was gonna be able to convince them he wasn't lying.

 _Freaking time travel_ crap _!_

“This is all your fault,” he muttered to Damian.

Damian bristled, but before he could respond, a tiny voice spoke up.

“Tommy Clayburn.”

Kirk stiffened. “What the hell did you just say?”

Bruce pulled himself to his feet, standing on the slightly unwieldy book pile and holding the back of the chair for balance. He fixed Kirk with an itty bitty, chubby cheeked Bat-glare that was incredibly disturbing, although probably not in the ways Bruce thought it would be.

“You're Tommy Clayburn,” Bruce said, his baby voice deepening slightly into a baby Bat rumble. Or as close as he could get, at least. “You wan the Fifth Street Crew fifteen years ago, before Batman caught you breaking into Wayne manor and bwoke your collarbone before sending you to jail.”

Kirk—Tommy, Tim supposed he'd have to call him now. Which kinda sucked, because Kirk was clever and 'Tommy and Johnny' sounded like a terrible sitcom—took a single step back before swinging his rifle from Tim to Bruce.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked. Even though Tim knew Bruce wasn't really three years old, he still winced at hearing that kind of language directed at a little kid. “What's this shit about the Batman? How the _fuck_ do you know my name?”

Bruce smirked. “I know _evewything_.”

Despite the adorable baby-slur and the high pitched voice, he still managed to be creepy enough to make Tommy shudder.

“What the fuck are you?”

For one horrible moment Tim was sure Bruce was going to say “I'm Batman”. Which would be terrible, because there has never been a time when he'd said that to a criminal without following it up with some kind of painful martial arts strike that he couldn't in a million years pull off as a _baby_. Still, even if Tim _hadn't_ been expecting that, he still would have never been able to guess what Bruce _actually_ said.

“Superman,” Bruce said, as loud and clearly as his underdeveloped vocal chords could manage. “Mrs Kent's apple pie is an American treasure.”

Tommy scowled. “What the fuck are—”

And that was as far as he got.

The door that led to the kitchen from outside burst open and a blue and red blur shot into the room. In the time it took Tim to yelp in surprise the blur had disarmed the five men, rounded them up and had them securely bound and gagged in the corner of the room. Then the blur stopped.

Superman stood over the men with his hands on his hips, looking down on them with an expression of almost paternal disappointment.

“You do realize that it's illegal to enter someone's home without their permission, don't you?” Superman asked. “And holding people at gun point?” He shook his head and frowned sternly. “I'm not even going to ask if you have permits for these weapons. But rest assured that the police _will_.”

He nodded to them once, then tapped them all on the head lightly, knocking them unconscious before he turned away to face Tim, Bruce, and Damian. His disappointed look instantly shifted into a wide, boyish grin.

“Bruce! You used our code phrase!” he exclaimed. He sounded ridiculously happy, and Tim didn't know weather to roll his eyes or get caught up in his enthusiasm. Which was pretty much Tim's normal reaction when dealing with Superman. _Damian's_ normal reaction, however, (a scoff and an incredulous glare) was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he almost looked like he was fighting not to smile.

 _...I_ really _want to know what happens in the future to make Damian react to Clark that way._

The happy grin melted into a look of confusion as Superman looked around the kitchen. Tim realized very quickly that he was expecting to see Bruce.

“It took you long enough to get here,” Bruce said, crossing his little baby arms and fixing Superman with his best glare of Bat-disapproval.

Superman's eyebrows rose in surprise. “I...” He cleared his throat, then smiled at him. “Hey there little man,” he said in his best hey-little-boy-where's-your-mom voice. Tim swallowed a snicker. “You don't have anything to be scared of. The bad men can't hurt you now.”

_Oh my god..._

Bruce's expression never changed.

“Um.” Superman's smile faltered for a second before coming back full force. “I'm Superman. What's your name?”

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. “Unbelievable...”

Tim snorted, then clamped his hand over his mouth. It was more than enough to grab Superman's attention, though.

“Hello Tim,” he said, seeming slightly confused. “And, um, Damian?”

It was understandable confusion, at least, since Damian was suddenly taller and visibly older than he'd been the last time Clark had been over to visit.

“I wouldn't have thought you would have trouble understanding the concept of time travel, Clark,” Damian said with an amused little twist to his lips.

Superman's eyes widened. Tim's did too, honestly. This was the first time he'd ever heard Damian call Clark by his name and not some variation of “you, alien”.

“Um. Right.” Clark shook his head and gave Damian a small smile. “So, is this your son, then? From the future? Because he does look an awful lot like you.”

This time, Tim couldn't ever try to hold back his laughter.

“What's so funny?” Superman asked with a polite smile.

“Clark,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his little baby nose. “It's me.”

Superman frowned.

“Bruce,” Bruce said, not even bothering to hide his exasperation. “And if you even think about asking Damian why he named his 'son' after me, I'll make sure to tell the _present_ Damian where I keep the kryptonite.”

Tim winced as he finally got his laughter under control. Damian—his Damian—had even more issues with Clark than he did with Tim. Mostly because Clark had started up a very prolonged courtship of Bruce and Bruce hadn't exactly rejected him outright. Tim had never seen him encourage Clark's advances (such as they were, even _Tim_ was more forward than Clark) and he wondered if Future Damian's relaxed attitude towards him was because he'd finally given up or because Damian eventually got over his dislike of aliens and people who weren't Talia being with Bruce. He made a mental note to ask later on.

“ _Bruce_?” Superman asked, not even acknowledging the threat, which must have _really_ annoyed Bruce. “How—what happened?”

“I've been deaged,” he said flatly.

“Oh.” Superman stared at Bruce with a strange mix of wonder and some other emotion Tim couldn't identify. “ _Oh_. I. Um. Wow.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Eloquent, Kent.”

“No. I mean, yeah, it's just...” Superman let out a little laugh. “I never thought you would be this cute as a baby, that's all.”

_And this is about to hit brand new levels of awkward, isn't it?_

Bruce's eyes narrowed.

“Are you okay?” Superman asked, suddenly concerned. “Are you sick? Do you need to be changed? Where's Alfred? Do you even have any baby supplies?”

Before anyone could answer any of his increasingly panicked questions, he took a quick glance around the ceiling and the walls, pausing slightly as he looked towards the sections of the manor Tim knew Bruce has lined with lead.

“Oh, wow, you're really unprepared for this, aren't you?” Superman frowned slightly, then broke out into a bright smile. “Don't worry. I'll take care of everything!”

“Cla—”

But Superman was gone almost before Bruce opened his mouth, taking the tied up would-be robbers with him.

For a long moment, no one said anything.

“You know,” Tim said, breaking the silence. “Jason's gonna be pissed if he gets back and Clark's already stocked the house.”

Bruce sighed and plopped down on top of the pile of books. “I honestly have no idea which one of them is going to come back with a more embarrassing selection. Probably Clark. Jason at least has Alfred to reign him in.”

Damian turned away, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“It could be worse, I guess,” Tim offered.

Bruce fixed him with a look that very clearly demonstrated his utter disbelief in Tim's statement.

“No, really,” Tim insisted. “This could have happened while _Dick and Roy_ were here.”

Bruce seemed to ponder that for a moment.

“I'm back, Bruce!” Superman bellowed as he seemingly appeared out of thin air. He was carrying a large pile of diapers and baby food and a crib and a ridiculous amount of stuffed bats, along with a—

“Is that a woman?” Bruce asked.

Superman beamed, gesturing to the slightly terrified looking woman he'd just set down on the floor.. “She's a wet nurse!”

He held up one of those machines that women used to milk themselves, and Tim shuddered.

Bruce _glared_. Not at Clark, or the woman. No, of course not.

He glared at _Tim_.

“ _It. Got. Worse._ ”

Damian, unable to hold it in any longer, burst out laughing. Tim dropped his face into his hands.

 _Additional new rule: The next time there's a two month space mission in another galaxy, Tim is first in line, because what even is my life stop blaming me for everything Bruce my god even Anakin Skywalker got less crap from his mentor and he got his legs chopped off and_ set on fire _._

 


	23. The Trouble With Time Part Four: Wherein Tim Finally Gets Over Himself

The worst part about this whole time thing, Tim realized very quickly, wasn't the sheer levels of _what even the heck_ that his life had suddenly turned into. It wasn't the frustration of having future Damian suddenly decide that he needed to “fill in” for Bruce while he was stuck as a baby, it wasn't that said “filling in” basically took the form of him following Tim around during patrol and critiquing him with such classic Bat-censure like “do that again, but better” or new and original Damian-censure like “your future self wouldn't have missed that” (and Tim couldn't even argue that he'd apparently already fixed whatever mythical flaws Damian's seeing on his own over the next ten years, because Damian just comes back with “perhaps you only fixed them because I pointed them out to you now”. Which usually ended with Tim wanting to scream). It wasn't that Bruce was the most obnoxious toddler ever, or that someone put Tim on his bath rotation which was a whole new level of awkward and uncomfortable that Tim hadn't even known was possible (which was seriously saying something). It wasn't having to fight the 24/7 temptation to strap future Colin to a chair and demand a minute by minute accounting of the next ten years of their relationship so he would know what to expect and how to avoid the no doubt many, many embarrassing mistakes he'd make or stupid fights he'd be responsible for. It wasn't even that he still hadn't told _his_ Colin about everything that was going on during their rare, rushed phone calls (because future Colin had told Tim that current Colin was still a bit insecure about their relationship, and Tim had enough experience with being an insecure teenager to know _exactly_ how _he_ would have reacted if he learned that his older boyfriend was sharing a house with a hot guy his own age who just so happen to be his older boyfriend's exact type while he was halfway across the world, and it wouldn't be anything good) so technically he'd been _lying_ to his boyfriend this entire time.

No. The _worst_ part about this time travel _crap_ was that, at some point in the next ten years, Damian developed an exhibitionist kink.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Tim yelled— _not_ shrieked—as he slapped his hands over his eyes. “Are you— _really?_ That's _our couch_. That's the _family couch_.”

He heard a sigh. Then some shifting. Then finally a _squelch_ that Tim _really_ didn't want to think about.

_At least they're using condoms and staying away from anal penetration now._

Tim refused to think about how low his standards for acceptable public behavior were falling.

“I'd forgotten how much of a prude you used to be, Drake.”

Tim didn't know what part of that sentence was worse, the idea that, at some point in the future, he'd be _okay_ with what he just walked in on, or the sly, teasing edge to Damian's words. He'd sounded like Kon or Bart or any number of his friends when they were giving him crap about something. He'd sounded like a real younger brother.

Tim would never hear that tone from _his_ Damian.

“It's not being a _prude_ ,” Tim snapped. “It's not wanting to see my _brothers_ having _sex_ on a couch I've _eaten off of_.”

“That's pretty much what prude means, babybird,” Jason said at the exact same time Damian said “You eat off the _couch_?” with so much disgust that Tim rolled his eyes behind his hands.

“Like you've never dropped popcorn on the couch and didn't throw it away.”

“I don't eat off of any surface in this house that isn't a plate,” Damian said. “Not with the things I've walked in on over the years.”

Everyone seemed to take a long minute to ponder this.

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Jason said.

Tim threw up a little in his mouth.

“I need to get out of here,” he muttered before fleeing the room.

He didn't uncover his eyes until he was halfway down the hall, which probably wasn't all that smart for someone as _selectively clumsy_ as Tim could be sometimes. Thankfully he didn't run into anything or knock anything expensive over. He didn't need to feel like an idiot on top of his disgust and...everything else he was feeling.

Because it wasn't just the squick factor of seeing Jason and Damian constantly going at it that was getting to him. It was the fact that, despite Damian's assurances and his own _complicated_ feelings towards the future version of _his_ boyfriend, he still couldn't look at _his_ Jason and some _other_ Jason's Damian and not feel like he was watching infidelity.

_No, let's be honest with ourselves Tim, it's even worse than that._

And it was. Because it wasn't just that he supported their relationship now, it was that, at some point since that night in the office when Jason and Damian came out to Bruce, he'd started _shipping his brothers_. He blamed Steph, and Colin's blog, and his own horrible, horrible brain, but Tim was now firmly in JayDami hell and seeing Jason with anyone else wasn't just infidelity it was _one of his OTP's being ruined by canon events_ and he shouldn't have to deal with that with characters that _aren't fictional_. Especially when he was starting to suspect that there wasn't a single flat surface in the manor that they hadn't decided to be _non-fictional_ on.

Tim shuddered, and quickly made his way to his room. At least he was relatively sure that they'd never done it on his bed. If they had, he'd have been able to _sense it_.

Although, it seemed that he wasn't the only person to seek sanctuary in his sanctuary.

“Hey Timmy,” Future Colin said, giving him a wave from where he was reclining on Tim's bed.

_On Tim's bed._

Tim swallowed heavily and decided to leave the door cracked.

“Hey,” he said, trying for nonchalant and failing completely when he went to lean against a wall that was father away than he thought it was. The loud _thump_ when his shoulder hit the wall sounded very loud in his room, and he couldn't help wondering if there was any bedroom in the manor big enough to have an echo. Bruce's, maybe. And probably Damian's if he knew about Bruce's echo and demanded one of his own.

He wondered if future Tim and future Colin lived somewhere that echoed, or somewhere small enough to be heated by nothing more than a fireplace and closeness.

“You, um. You want me to go?” Colin asked after a long, uncomfortable silence. Aside from the hesitation he seemed like he didn't care one way or another, which was basically screaming that he _did_ care and wanted to pretend he didn't. Colin _always_ cared, and never more than when he was pretending he didn't.

“No,” Tim said quickly. “Um, I think they're trying to turn the whole manor into a two person Roman orgy so, it's probably best to just...never leave this room again.”

Colin laughed, then rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah. I keep thinking I should apologize for that. I swear I had no idea Dami was gonna be like this.”

“It's not your fault they don't know that tables are for eating,” Tim muttered. His brain decided to helpfully supply him with a few choice images of the last time he saw Jason eating certain parts of Damian on top of Bruce's insanely long formal dining room table, and shuddered. “If it's anyone's fault it's Bruce's for buying so many flat surfaces and then turning into a baby so he can't keep them— _oh my god_ do you think baby Bruce has walked in on them?”

Would that scar him? Yeah, Bruce was just normal Bruce in a toddler's body, but wasn't it supposed to be traumatizing for kids to walk in on their older adopted children having sex?

Tim really hated time travel.

“I...have no idea,” Colin said, looking vaguely freaked out.

_Great, now I'm weirding out my maybe-sort-of boyfriend. Should I hug him?_

Tim debated for a few moments, then settled on giving him a shrug and a smile that he hoped seemed more natural than it felt.

“Do you maybe wanna stop talking about this?”

Colin nodded rapidly. “Yes please.”

Tim couldn't _not_ smile at little bits of his Colin's adorable bashfulness he could see in the normally confident future Colin. He wanted to join him on the bed and pull him into a cuddle in the worst way, and had actually taken a step forward when he was once again punched in the gut with the realization that this _wasn't his Colin_. Tim pulled up short like he always did when this happened, torn between shame and frustration.

Because Tim _missed_ Colin. Missed him like he missed his spleen. He'd never been in a relationship with anyone where he felt like an actual real, physical part of him was missing when they were gone. He wanted to see Colin's smile, hear his laugh, listen to his voice, watch the way he lit up when he got really into a movie, argue with him about whether or not Kylo Ren should die or find redemption in Episode VIII. And every time he saw a bit of his Colin in this Colin he wanted to hold onto it with everything he had. But he couldn't. Because part of him still saw that as cheating, and he could never do that. Especially not when his Colin had no idea a new model even existed.

So Tim's life had been filled with a lot of aborted gestures of affection, lately.

And Colin had most definitely started to notice.

“Do you wanna watch TV?” Colin asked, looking away. Tim wanted to pretend he couldn't hear the disappointment in his voice, that he wasn't the one to put it there. He wanted to ignore it like he'd been ignoring it every time Colin looked at him with longing or sighed when Tim sat next to him just far enough away so that they wouldn’t accidentally touch. He wanted to make like the distance between them didn't matter because he could love this Colin but he couldn't touch him, he already _had_ a Colin. One that he loved more. One who deserved his loyalty. One who trusted him and who didn't deserve to have that trust betrayed because Tim was lonely and felt like the worst boyfriend ever to a guy who, in a very real way, _wasn't his boyfriend_.

And yet, in so many other ways, totally was and, ugh, it was so freaking confusing.

“Sure,” Tim said, only then realizing that, multimillion dollar manor or not, there were only two places to sit in Tim's room. His desk chair, which was _great_ for sitting hunched over a laptop but _terrible_ for watching TV, and his bed. He saw the exact moment Colin realized why Tim was still standing in the middle of his room like an idiot. Saw the way he looked at the floor. The way he picked at the seam in his jeans. How small he suddenly seemed. He saw Colin do his best to hide each one of these tells. He saw Colin do a really, really good job at it, so much so that even hyper-aware detective Tim only noticed them because he was already looking for them. Seeing how good this Colin was at hiding his feelings for him hurt, a deep, stabbing pain right in his chest. Because he didn't know if that was a skill Colin developed to hide from future Tim, or if he'd only developed it recently to hide from _him_.

_Maybe disgust isn't the only reason he doesn't want to be around Jason and Damian. Maybe he doesn't like to be reminded of what he doesn't have._

It was that thought that had Tim firmly turning his back on the chair. He quickly strode over to his bed and, before he could second guess or over think, climbed in and sat cross-legged next to Colin.

Colin tensed, then, slowly, he started to relax. It happened by inches, but by the time Colin finally looked up Tim had locked the guilty panic and the _what the heck am I doing_ behind his best reassuring smile.

“What do you want to watch?” he asked.

“Um.” Colin seemed flustered for the first time since he showed up from the future. It was still a cute look on him even ten years older, and Tim really just wanted to ruffle his hair. _Which is so far beyond my comfort level right now. Please god don't let me accidentally touch him._ “Celebrity Barn Raising?”

Tim blinked. “What's that?”

“Oh. Right. That isn't a thing yet, is it?”

Tim's mouth went dry. “Is...is that a TV show from the future?”

Colin nodded.

_Oh my god. He's a human untagged tumblr spoiler._

“It's a reality show about celebrities living in an Amish village—”

“Let's watch this!” Tim voice cracked as he held up the first blu-ray box set he could grab. He shoved it into Colin's arms. “Go put it in.”

_Put it in and stop ruining the next ten years of TV for me. Oh god, he could tell me if—No! Be strong!_

Colin gave Tim an odd look before glancing down at the box. “Oh wow,” he said, grinning. “I haven't watched this show in years.”

“It's my favorite show,” Tim said before he could think better of it.

Colin laughed. “Oh, I know. You _still_ can't get over how it got...um.”

“What? How it got what?” Tim leaned forward, totally crowding Colin but he didn't care anymore. It sounded way too much like Colin was about to say—

“Um. Nothing...”

Tim knew the look on Colin's face. He knew it very well. It was _guilt_.

“Did it get _canceled_!?” Tim shrieked.

Colin gave him a weak smile. “...maybe?”

“Noooo!” Tim wailed. “How the _hell_ could it get canceled? It had great ratings and it was so original and it's the only good show that has more than ten episodes a season and no stupid mid-season break and-and-and—” Tim couldn't even form coherent thoughts. He _loved_ that show. He planned his _life_ (as much of it as he could because, let's be honest, Tim Drake-Wayne/Red Robin doesn't exactly have the loosest schedule) around that show. Criminals on his patrol were never safer than during its epic two hour season finales because he always had the whole thing streamed to the lens screens in his costume.

How could this be happening?

Tim lit his rules on fire with barely a passing glance, grabbed Colin by the front of his shirt and hauled him across the bed so that their faces were inches apart. Colin seemed shocked by how Tim was acting, which meant that this had to be the first time Colin was seeing him react to the show getting _canceled_ which Tim took to mean that this was always how Tim was supposed to find out so asking more questions was basically the best thing he could do to preserve the time stream.

Not that anything would have stopped him at this point.

“ _When does it get canceled_?”

Colin squirmed. Squirming was not answering, so Tim shook him.

“Season two! It got canceled after season two!” Colin slapped at his hands, and Tim numbly let go.

“But...” He held up the box Colin had dropped. “ _This_ is season two.”

“Oh.”

“It just got released on blu-ray last week. How can it be canceled?”

“I guess they didn't announce it yet.”

“But how can it be _canceled_? It isn't even on Fox.”

“I don't know.”

Tim groaned and collapsed into the bed. This was the worst day ever.

He lost track of how much time he spent laying there bemoaning the fate of the greatest TV show since Lost ( _shut up Dick Lost was genius and if people are too stupid to get it then that's their problem_ ) but when his haze of misery started to fade the first thing he noticed was the hand hesitantly stroking the back of his head. Tim sighed into his bedding.

_His hands feel the same._

Tim rolled over onto his back. His nose bumped into Colin's hand and Colin snatched it back. Tim sighed again.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Anytime.”

Colin smiled. He was beautiful. Tim could have kissed him.

_I'm a terrible boyfriend._

And since soul-rending guilt was the last thing he needed to feel right then, he tried to distract himself by saying the first thing that popped into his head.

“So how does The Walking Dead end?”

“Um, I don't think I should—”

“If Jason having sex with the future version of his boyfriend isn't tearing a hole in the space-time continuum, telling me if Rick dies at the end is probably okay too.”

“I don't think that's how that works.”

“Damian told me we were married and that didn't change anything, did it? I still...”

 _I'm still gonna marry you. Oh my god, I'm_ married _. Like actually married. Rings and ceremonies and for better or worse and I don't remember any of it but Colin does._

It must be painful, being less than three feet away from your husband and not being able to touch him because he's worried about cheating on someone else. It was the first time Tim really thought about how _Colin_ might feel about this.

So Tim reached over and squeezed Colin's hand and smiled.

“Come on, tell me if Carl ever stopped being annoying. You can give me that much, right?”

Colin stared at their joined hands.

“Why?”

_Well if that isn't a loaded question..._

Tim took a breath. “Because. You're leaving in a few days and we really haven't talked much. I don't wanna ask about our future—” _Lieslieslies I want to know everything_ “—but I'd like to have at least one real conversation with you.” Tim shrugged. “If you want.”

“Timmy...”

“I'm sorry,” Tim blurted. He squeezed his eyes shut because he didn't want to say any of this but once he started he couldn't stop. “I know I've kinda been treating you like crap the past few days, and I didn't even realize I was doing it until now, and I know that's not an excuse but...I mean, you probably know this by now, but I can be pretty selfish. And I was so worried about messing up _my_ relationship with Colin by getting too close to you that I never really thought about how it would feel for you spending all your time with someone who's basically your husband but isn't acting like it at all. Especially after I said I loved you just as much as present Colin and then avoided you for two days. Which I'm sorry about, by the way...”

Tim forced himself to stop speaking even though he kinda wanted to keep going on and rephrase all of that at least two more times. He braced himself for Colin's reaction.

And was surprised when, instead of digging it in how _terrible_ of a husband Tim was, Colin just smiled, turned his hand over, and gave Tim's a squeeze.

“I have no idea what happens to Rick at the end,” Colin said brightly, “because the show hasn't ended yet. But you seem to pretty reliably hate Carl every time he's on screen.”

Tim was definitely smart enough to take a peace offering when it was offered.

“It hasn't ended yet?!”

Colin laughed. “You say that every year...” He frowned. “You _still_ say that every year, actually. Why aren't my memories changing?”

Tim grinned. “Because I'm the best at keeping the space-time continuum from imploding?”

Colin's lips twitched. “I'm not sure I like the idea of you lying to me for ten years just so your reactions don't change.”

“Take it up with future me. So far I haven't done anything and it would be incredibly unfair to yell at me for something I haven't done yet. Besides, is it really lying when they would have been my actual reactions anyway?”

Colin groaned. “That's exactly what you're gonna say when I get back, isn't it.”

“Most likely,” Tim agreed.

Colin sighed. “So. Anything else you wanna know?”

“I kinda wanna know why you just gave in there. Present you would have argued with me for at least a half an hour.”

“Years of Timsperience.”

“... _Timsperience_?” Tim stuck out his tongue. “Please tell me this is the first time you've said that out loud.”

“You're the one who came up with it,” Colin said with a grin. A grin that quickly faltered. “No. You didn't. Because I just told you and my memories haven't changed. Dammit you're going to be _so_ smug when I get back.”

“I promise I'll try to restrain myself.”

“No you won't.”

“Probably not.”

Colin threw a pillow at him.

After the inevitable pillow fight that followed—which _didn't_ end with them on top of each other staring breathlessly into each other's eyes, exposing every romantic comedy Dick's ever forced Tim to watch as even _more_ full of crap than he'd thought—the awkwardness between them had disappeared. They lay next to each other on Tim's now-disheveled bed, contemplating the mysteries of the universe.

“You know, I thought we would have changed the future a lot more than we did,” Colin said. “Everyone always says if you travel back in time and step on the wrong plant you could accidentally make the future unrecognizable—”

“That was a good episode.”

“...what?”

“Of The Simpsons. You know, where Homer goes back in time and...” Tim could _feel_ the look Colin was giving him. “Never mind.”

Colin chuckled quietly. “Anyway, we haven't really changed anything aside from the stuff with Jason, and we _still_ haven't figured out how to keep him from getting infected in the first place. I guess I'm surprised at how resilient the current timeline is.”

“Or maybe the Butterfly Effect was just a bunch of crap.”

“Still Ashton Kutcher's best movie though.”

“I _knew_ you were lying about liking the remake better!”

“ _Please_. The remake starred that kid who got famous for taking his shirt off on YouTube—”

“That narrows it down,” Tim muttered.

“— _no one_ liked it. It's just really fun to make you think I did because you always believed me...Oh. Except now you don't. Huh. I guess I finally changed the future.”

“Sorry to spoil your fun.”

Colin shoved him with his foot. “No you're not.”

Tim just grinned.

“Speaking of spoiling...”

And that was how, on an otherwise unassuming afternoon in the bedroom of a Wayne Manor that was currently experiencing the fourth weirdest set of circumstances in its long and storied history, Tim Drake ended up having every single one of his favorite TV shows spoiled for him. For the next _ten years_.

Although, after almost killing Colin for telling him who finally takes the Iron Throne, Tim wasn't nearly as upset as he could have been. No, he was too busy being absolutely _pissed off_ at the writers for how they kept ruining his favorite series'.

“I can't _believe_ they never got together! The were perfect for each other! The entire _show_ was building up to it!”

“I know, it was stupid.”

“It's Jack and Sam all over again...”

“Or Buffy and Angel.”

_I wonder if I could set up a spoiler blog and post everything he's telling me?_

It would take a while before people started realizing that he was always right, but he'd put more effort into blogs that went nowhere. Plus, if he got popular enough the showrunners might eventually find out that some guy on the internet knows all of their future plot arcs and maybe even change them up.

He decided not to tell Colin about his new plan. He didn't want to know if Colin's memories changed or not.

Their conversation eventually trailed off as they sat up and started watching Tim's blu-ray. Even knowing that the show ended in the fire and brimstone of some studio executives office couldn't keep him from being drawn in. The characters and setting, the plot and story arcs, everything about it appealed to Tim. They started from the beginning, watching as circumstances brought the cast together, how they went from a group of individuals who could barely trust each other to something that was almost like a family.

Tim wasn't an idiot, he could definitely draw parallels between the show and his own life, something he usually _hated_ (no one would watch crime shows if Tim was within a hundred yards anymore. No matter how hard he tried to control himself he couldn't help going off about how he could have _already had this solved and in half the time god Jason how can you stand this you were trained by Batman too!_ ). It was different with this show, though, because it was the family aspect that was similar, and not the technical one. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Steph, Cass and Alfred were all there, dressed up in archetypes and tropes but still so much like the people he knew. They struggled, with each other and their own demons, but in the end they always came together and stood stronger for it. A bit formulaic, actually, because they never really stayed mad at each other for more than an episode or two, and no matter what came between them there was never any real danger of them being torn apart. Maybe that's why it appealed to him so much. Seeing his struggles and problems being overcome so easily gave him hope that he'd find a way to overcome them too.

Colin seemed to enjoy it as well, but Tim had already started in on getting present Colin hooked so that wasn't really a surprise. What did surprise Tim was how much pleasure he got out of watching Colin. He'd always liked sharing shows with people, but it wasn't until he started dating Colin that he'd ever gotten more enjoyment out of seeing someone love the things he loved than he did watching the actual show. He never expected to feel that way with anyone else, not even a different version of his boyfriend. For the first time since Damian spoiled their marriage, Tim could see a clear picture of his future with the man laying next to him. He could see nights like these, curled up in front of a TV or a computer, their hands clasped with two identical rings reflecting the screen's glow as they binge watched something until they fell asleep. He could imagine reaching over and running his fingers through Colin's hair, or laying his head on Colin's chest, and feel nothing but a sense of longing and contentment.

_This is my husband._

_Holy shit. This man represents a ten year long relationship that I somehow didn't screw up. Why is that so terrifying?_

“Are we happy?” Tim asked suddenly as the Damian stand-in on screen was being scolded by the Bruce stand-in. Colin cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at Tim. “In the future. In our...marriage. Are we happy being married?”

“Of course,” Colin answered absently, still mostly watching the show.

Tim chewed his lip. “And...am I a good...husband?”

Colin smiled. “Husband of the Year. You have the mug and everything.”

Despite the _fearpressuredon'tmessthisup_ that was gnawing at his insides, Tim laughed. “You got me a Husband of the Year mug?”

“Two, actually. Dami destroyed the first one because he was jealous.”

Tim scowled, a fierce protectiveness for a mug he'd never even seen welling up inside him.

“Oh. The future just changed again.” Colin shook his head. “That's the weirdest feeling...oh my god.”

“Did I save the mug?” Tim asked, leaning forward.

Colin groaned. “Yeah you—” He sighed. “You bought a decoy mug, and Dami destroyed that one. By the time he realized it wasn't the actual mug you had yours locked behind Batman's strongest display case.”

“The one with Jason's old uniform?”

Colin nodded.

Tim was...kind of impressed with the set of balls on his future self. “Wow. I bet that pissed Damian off.”

Colin laughed. “Yeah, but only until Jason bought him a Husband of the Year t shirt.”

“What?” Tim scowled. “In the same year? That's not valid at all.”

“Oh god, that's exactly what you say when it happens.”

_Too right I do._

Tim had the brief thought that he was getting a bit too caught up in something that hadn't even happened yet, but he could just _picture_ Damian's smug little face the first time he walked in front of Tim wearing that shirt and he wanted to smack it off.

“Tell me one thing.”

“What?” Colin asked warily.

“Does whatever I do when I see his shirt spark a feud that could conceivably involve our decedents?”

“...yes.”

Tim's lip curled. “ _Good_.”

Colin collapsed back onto the bed with another groan. “Next time we're _all_ sticking to the time travel rules. This stuff never happens when the Flashes go back in time...”

Tim laughed because, well, _Bart_ _and Wally_ , but before he could say anything his phone started to ring.

“Oh,” Tim said, glancing at the caller ID. “It's you.”

Colin gave him a sad little smile. “I'll give you guys some privacy.”

He started to get up, but Tim grabbed his arm.

“No, wait...”

Tim bit his lip. He thought about time and continuums and paradoxes and how lucky they'd been that they hadn't screwed up something major yet. He thought about everything Colin had told him, about weddings and mugs and how Husband of the Year would seem meaningless without trying to win a few Boyfriend of the Year's first. Mostly, he thought about Colin—present Colin, not _his_ Colin, because they were both _his_ Colins. He thought about the look on that Colin's face when he got home and found out Tim hadn't had enough faith in him or their relationship enough to tell him about future Colin. That he hadn't trusted Colin to trust _Tim_.

“I'm gonna tell him. About you and Damian and—well, not everything I guess. I want my proposal to be a surprise. But...everything else.”

“Are you sure?” Colin asked. “I...you didn't, before. You told me when I got back.”

“And you were okay with that?”

Colin's silence was all the answer he needed. Tim crawled over to Colin and, after the smallest hesitation, leaned down and kissed his wide-eyed future husband on the forehead.

“You both deserve better,” he whispered. “So get ready for some new memories.”

 


	24. The Trouble With Time Part Five: Wherein All's Well That Ends (Or Begins) Well

“This is the greatest thing I've ever seen,” Tim said, for what had to have been the eighth time in the past ten minutes.

Future Colin hmm'd, not even bothering to look away from where he was playing with Tim's fingers. “Bruce is gonna kill him when he reages, though.”

“ _I know_.” Tim gasped. “Do you think it'll happen _now?”_ he asked eagerly, then deflated when Colin shook his head.

“It doesn't. Not until after we leave.”

Tim huffed. “Time travel _sucks_.”

Colins hands stilled. Tim frowned. “What?”

Colin shook himself. “Nothing. Just...”

“Yeah?”

“I kinda really wanna make a dirty joke right now, because you said _suck_ , but...”

Tim felt himself start to flush as he smacked Colin. “What _happens_ to you over the next ten years?”

Colin grinned and waggled his eyebrows in a disturbingly Dick-esque way. “I could go into detail, if you want?”

Tim smacked him again.

He supposed he should be happy that, ever since he'd told Present Colin about Future Colin, things between Tim and _both_ his Colins had gotten a whole lot more comfortable. The phone calls with Present Colin could be enjoyed without the horrible, soul crushing _guilt_ of keeping Future Colin a secret, and he didn't have to feel like he was cheating on Present Colin every time he smiled at Future Colin. And he _was_ happy. He just wished that Future Colin hadn't developed this terrible need to see Tim's face light up like a stoplight.

“ _I never got to tease you when you still blushed like this_ , _”_ Colin had said when Tim called him out on this latest Lovecraftian evil.

“ _You do realize I'm gonna make you suffer when you get back to your own time, right?”_

Colin had grinned and winked. _“Chains or paddle?”_

Tim still refused to believe that locking himself in his room for an entire day was in any way an overreaction.

“Ow, that one hurt,” Colin said, rubbing his arm. Tim bit his lip to keep from apologizing. There was no way he was going to feel guilty when Colin _deserved it_. Instead of saying anything, he went back to watching the _spectacle_ in front of him.

“Put. Me. _Down_ ,” Baby Bruce growled from atop Dick's shoulders. Dick had his hands securely wrapped around Bruce's ankles, keeping him in place while Bruce grabbed his hair with one hand and used the other to pepper his neck with ineffectual little baby nerve strikes.

“Nope! The Batplane can't land while the Joker's on the loose. Come on Lil' Batman, let's go catch the Joker!”

He took off running around the living room, ducking and dipping and making the worst little “vroom vroom” plane noises Tim ever heard.

“Does the Batplane even sound like that?” Roy asked from just outside the room. He refused to take one step inside, his theory being Bruce wouldn't _destroy_ him for going along with this when he reaged if Roy never actually got close enough to Dick to theoretically be able to stop him. Tim found his naive optimism kind of adorable.

“No way. It's more of a high pitched whiny noise,” Steph said. She was sitting in the armchair next to the couch Tim and Colin were on, alternating between watching Dick and shooting increasingly lewd smirks at Tim. “Like, 'eeeeeeeAHHHH eeeeeeAHHHH'”

“What's the AHHHH part?”

“Like, when it goes overhead, you know? It gets louder.”

“Ah.”

“I've always thought it was more of a low thrumming,” Colin said. “Sort of a 'mmmmmmmm' sound.”

“The plane is completely silent,” Tim cut in. “Now shut up, I'm watching this.”

“Vroom vroom Batman! We need to do a barrel roll!”

Dick let one of Bruce's ankles go, grabbed the free foot with his right hand and used his left to brace Bruce's back before running two steps and doing a flip with Bruce still on his shoulders.

“ _Dick_!” Bruce shrieked.

“Holy great flying, Batman! Let's do another one!”

“Is he high?” Colin asked. Tim knew he meant it as a joke, but no one missed the way Roy shifted uncomfortably. Colin winced. “Sorry.”

Roy wordlessly shrugged off his apology.

“Maybe he's possessed?” Tim suggested.

Everyone paused and considered.

“Zatanna shielded the house against that,” Colin said. “At least, I don't think that happened later on.”

“No,” Tim agreed, slightly disappointed. “That sounds sorta familiar.”

“Oh no! We've been hit! Ejector seat go!”

Dick tossed Bruce off his shoulders and into the air.

Time seemed to stop as his little baby body hovered near the ceiling. Roy closed his eyes. Steph covered her mouth. Tim squeezed Colin's hand tightly and wondered if this was how it felt to literally _be_ Christmas.

Bruce's hands dug at his waist, like he was scrambling for a utility belt, but his eyes—and the death glare promising painful, never ending retribution—never once left Dick.

Then he fell right into Dick's waiting arms.

“Jetpack parachute!” Dick yelled, then held Bruce out and started flying him around the room.

“I feel like there should be a limit to how much I can enjoy this,” Tim said. “But there doesn't seem to be.”

“Jay and Damian are gonna be so mad that they're missing it,” Steph said. “Where are they anyway?”

Tim shuddered. “Please don't ever ask.”

The only reason he was even on the couch was because he was there when Alfred fumigated it.

“Really?” Steph grinned with delight. Tim very pointedly ignored her.

Thankfully, before Steph could ask anything else, the sound of the front door slamming closed echoed throughout the manor.

_They're back!_

Tim was off the couch and running to the front foyer before the thought fully formed. He hadn't even realized he'd dragged Future Colin with him until he was standing in front of Present Damian and Present Colin, the latter of which lit up with a grin when he saw Tim. A grin that very quickly turned into open-mouthed awe when he noticed Future Colin.

“I-is that _me_?” Colin asked.

Tim raised an eyebrow at Future Colin's faint blush.

“Colin,” he said, letting go of Future Colin (after subtly lifting his wedding ring and slipping it into Future Colin's pocket; there was no way he wanted Present Colin to notice it) and taking his boyfriend's hand. “Meet Colin.”

His two Colins stared at each other.

 _Okay, sometimes time travel is_ really _cool._

“Hey,” Future Colin said, sounding more like awkward Present Colin than Tim had ever heard.

“ _Wow_ ,” Present Colin said. “I get _hot_.”

Tim snickered as Future Colin's face erupted into the Vesuvius of blushes.

“Tt.”

“Oh, come _on_ Dami. Don't be jealous that I grow up smokin'.”

“Oh god,” Future Colin moaned, covering his face with his hands. “How did I forget about this?”

Damian scoffed. “You're...passable. Still too _red_ , though.”

“Hey!”

Damian rolled his eyes, but Tim didn't miss the way he kept glancing back at Future Colin. He glared at Damian, who quickly looked away when he realized he'd been caught checking Colin out.

It was probably for the best that Jason and Future Damian decided to come downstairs then.

“Hey, was that the doorbell?” Jason asked.

“Jason...” Damian said breathlessly. Tim didn't even try to hold back a snort.

Jason's eyes widened—even though he _had_ to be expecting Damian to come home today, _god these two were so embarrassing—_ then softened.

“Hey Babybat,” he said, his voice equally soft.

That was as far as he got before Damian bounded across the foyer, jumped into his arms and gave him a kiss that was so pornographic Tim felt like he should be locking his door. Everyone who wasn't Jason or Damian— _either_ Damian, because future Damian seemed to be getting a bit too much out of that kiss for someone who wasn't being touched at all, which, _gross—_ stood around not making eye contact and feeling more uncomfortable by the second. _Finally_ the kiss stopped, and they shared a few whispered words that Tim was too far away to hear before Damian took a step back and turned to his future self and looked him up and down. After a long moment, he nodded in approval.

“You're tall,” he said with obvious satisfaction.

Future Damian, who was shorter than everyone in the manor except for Baby Bruce and Tim, suddenly looked very smug.

“I'd almost forgotten how intelligent I was in the past.”

Both Damian's exchanged pleased smirks.

Tim groaned.

_How am I supposed to deal with two of them?_

“I can think of a few ways,” Jason said with an exaggerated leer.

“Did I say that out loud?” Tim asked. “And gross, by the way.”

“Nothing gross about—” He ducked the Redarang Tim threw at him. “Hey!”

“Drake!” Both Damians snapped. Tim suppressed a shudder.

“Okay,” Present Colin said, “that's really weird.”

“Yeah,” Future Colin agreed. Present Colin beamed at him.

Tim...was going to blame Jason for the thoughts that popped into his head as both Colins smiled at each other.

_I'm never watching threesome porn ever again._

Thankfully Jason and Present Damian were too busy being dragged into the far corner of the room for any of them to keep talking about... _this—_ and dear _god_ Tim did not need another _this._ He could only hear small snippets of their conversation, but that was enough for him to realize they were telling Present Damian about what happened to Jason in the future. And he wasn't the only one to hear.

“Timmy?” Present Colin asked. “Did Dami just say Jason has—”

“Shh!” Future Colin hissed. Present Colin flinched. Tim glared, but for the first time since showing up on the manor's doorstep, Future Colin didn't even seem to realize he was there. He was too busy staring wide eyed at Jason and Present Damian. An expression perfectly mirrored on Future Damian's face as he all but collapsed onto the bottom stair.

“Holy shit,” Future Colin said.

“What?” Tim demanded.

Future Colin laughed. “That did it.”

Tim blinked. “You mean...”

“Yeah.” Future Colin laughed again, a high pitched sound of relief so pure Tim felt himself tearing up. “The future changed. Jason's fine, now. And so is Damian. Neither of them have HIV or AIDS or anything, and...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“What? What's that head shake for?”

“Nothing bad,” Future Colin assured him. “Just...I have a lot of memories of Jason getting hurt that don't happen now.”

Future Colin looked across the room, and Tim followed his gaze. Present Damian had pulled Jason into a bone crushing hug, and was currently berating him in a mixture of English and Arabic. Tim caught the bit about “putting seventeen trackers on you and never letting you out of my sight for the rest of my life”, and couldn't help laughing.

“What's going on?” Present Colin asked, looking back and forth between them.

“I think Jason just picked up a lifelong guard dog,” Tim said.

“Definitely,” Future Colin said, grinning so wide it had to hurt. If Tim hadn't already been at least somewhat in love with this version of his boyfriend, that would have been enough to do it right there.

And then, because Tim was happy, and Colin was happy, and another Colin was confused; because Jason was going to be _okay_ and Tim had no idea how terrified he was for his brother's future until _that_ moment, Tim grabbed Present Colin and pulled him in for a kiss. It didn't even come close to being a porno kiss—Tim thought they should probably wait until they moved past mild groping in private before before subjecting people to gross public affection—but Tim pushed aside his natural aversion to non-scientific romanticism ( _shut up Dick I am totally logical at all_ times) and did his best to pour every ounce of love and relief he was feeling into it. When he finally pulled back, the only thing keeping Colin steady on his feet was Future Colin quickly grabbing his shoulders.

“ _Wow_ ,” Present Colin said breathlessly. Which, Tim thought with more than a bit of smugness, wasn't even remotely embarrassing when _he_ was the one causing it.

Future Colin shot him a knowing smile. “I know, right?”

Of course, the weather in Timland can never be sunny for long, and to the dismay of everyone, today's clouds were apparently going to take the form of a loud _moan_ coming from the general direction of a certain, not-nearly-secluded-enough corner of the front foyer.

“ _No_ ,” Tim said, shaking his head. “No _way_. I am _not_ seeing this.”

“No one wants you to watch, Drake!”

“ _Shut up! There are a million rooms in this stupid house! Go get one!_ ” Tim shrieked.

Thankfully, Future Colin was on the freaking ball and had grabbed Present Colin and covered up his eyes—and given that Present Colin wasn't fighting at all other than a softly whispered “what's going on? No, wait, please don't tell me” he probably had a pretty good idea of what was happening. Not so thankfully, Tim didn't have nearly as much self control as he liked to pretend he did.

He looked.

And discovered three things he'd never known before.

One, he hadn't yet reached the threshold for how thankful one person could be that another person(s) still have all their clothes on.

Two, it was possible for present and future versions of the same person to make out without destroying the entirety of time.

Three, skinny jeans from the future must be made out of magic, because that's the only explanation Tim could think of for how _two pairs of hands_ can fit inside them while someone's wearing them.

_They're not going to stop, are they?_

Tim did the only thing he could think to do.

“ _Steph! Jason and Damians are having sex in the hallway right now!_ ”

There was a loud _crash_ from further inside the manor, followed by the sound of socked feet pounding down the hall getting steadily louder.

“That's cold, babybird,” Jason said.

Tim smirked. “Better find a room fast.”

They all glanced at each other, took their hands back, and ran upstairs.

“And don't take Damian's room!” Tim yelled after them. “If I have to hear it, I'm showing her how to remotely hack video files out of your phones!”

One of the Damians yelled something back in Arabic. Tim decided to take it as a positive sign.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing his Colins by the arms. “We don't wanna be here when she shows up and there aren't any orgies going on.”

And with that, he led them to his room, where not a single sound came through the walls.

 

* * *

 

“But Jason's gonna be okay, right?”

They were all laying on Tim's—surprisingly big (seriously since when can his bed fit three people?)—bed. Present Colin was laying with his head on Tim's stomach so that they formed a T, and Future Colin was laying next to them, alternating between stroking Tim's hair and putting (what he claimed were) his smelly socked feet right under Present Colin's nose.

(When Colin complained, Future Colin just shrugged and said “hey, I've never had a little brother, and even though you're me this is probably the only chance I'm gonna get to do all the stuff Jason says Dick used to do to him. Oh don't give me that look, you're gonna do the exact same thing when you're in my shoes.”)

Tim had never felt more complete in his entire _life_.

“Yeah,” Future Colin said as Present Colin smacked his foot away for the fifteenth time. “No death, no HIV, no infecting Damian, nothing. He's perfectly fine.” He frowns thoughtfully. “Which means you're gonna have to find another reason to come back here when you guys deal with the convergence, but Barry says as long as you _come_ back at all, it shouldn't erase anything we did now.”

“That makes no sense,” Tim said absently. Really, he was only sort of half paying attention. Future Colin was leaving soon, and he was both looking forward to finally being alone with his boyfriend again, and dreading saying goodbye to his husband.

Plus, the foot thing was hilariously distracting.

Future Colin shrugged. “Time travel.”

He started sneaking his foot back towards Present Colin.

“I'm gonna be way less mean when I'm you,” Present Colin said with an adorable glare.

Future Colin paused, then grinned. “Nope. Nothing changed. You're gonna be _exactly_ like me.”

Present Colin frowned.

“Don't be mad, Future Timmy _loves_ how we turn out,” he said, waggling his eyebrows again and Tim wasn't entirely sure he wanted to become the kind of person who wouldn't _train that out of him_.

“Well _present_ Tim loves how Colin is right now,” Tim said, giving his boyfriend's face a soft caress.

Present Colin grinned. “Yeah. So—” He stuck his tongue out.

Future Colin laughed.

“I really was a cute shit back then.”

“I'm not _cute_.” Present Colin scrunched up his nose, which, really, definitely not the way to be less cute.

“Timmy thinks you're cute.”

Tim nodded, his heart fluttering at the blush that started to spread across Presen't Colin's cheeks. “I think he's _adorable_.”

Present Colin mumbled something unintelligible, but he couldn't completely hide the small smile pulling at his lips.

Tim and Future Colin shared a grin.

“Thanks,” Future Colin whispered, leaning his forehead against Tim's.

“For agreeing with you?”

Future Colin shook his head. “For letting me be here with you guys like this. For...sharing with me, I guess. Making me feel like I'm still part of it.”

“Of course you're part of it,” Tim whispered back. “You're Colin. You'll always be part of it...and part of me, too.”

Future Colin smiled and, after a brief hesitation, placed a quick kiss on Tim's forehead.

“I love you, Timmy.”

Tim was too busy beaming at his future husband to notice just how closely Present Colin was watching them.

 

* * *

 

Both Colins had already left to go downstairs, and Tim followed after taking a quick stop in the bathroom. He'd expected to find them by the front door saying goodbye to everyone else, but halfway down the hall from his room he saw them off to the side, half in shadows with their heads bowed close together. He opened his mouth to make a joke about not needing to wait for him (which wasn't really a joke, people waiting for Tim to be done in the bathroom was weird and in the top five of Tim's List of Things That _Ugh_ ), but before he could, their voices drifted across the echoey hall.

“I really shouldn't tell you...” Future Colin's voice came, slow and reluctant. “It's bad enough I told Timmy so much, telling you—”

“I don't care,” Present Colin insisted. “I already know we're still together, but...I need to know if we _stay_ together that whole ten years, or...”

“Colin...”

“Does he really love _me_?”

Tim felt like he'd been stabbed. No, scratch that. He'd been stabbed way too many times and this felt _nothing_ like that. This was a whole different kind of pain. He'd known Colin was insecure with their relationship, but he thought they'd been working on it. He thought he knew how Tim _felt_ , at least. Surely he told him enough, didn't he? Didn't he make a point to say it every day since the first time when Colin was sitting naked on top of Bane? Didn't he do things for Colin and help him and hold him when he needed it and take care of him as much as he could?

Tim thought he'd been doing all of that. So what the _hell_ had he been doing instead that made Colin think he wasn't the most important thing in Tim's life?

“I shouldn't...” Future Colin pressed his lips together, his hands—the one Tim could see at least—clenched tightly at his side. Tim saw the exact moment he was going to break down and tell Colin anything he wanted to know. Not that he blamed Future Colin. Tim had been hit with the full force of Colin's tear filled eyes before, and it was almost impossible to resist.

The thing was, Colin shouldn't be hearing any of this from himself. And not because of the timeline or because it wasn't the way it was supposed to happen, either.

He should be hearing it from Tim, because Tim was his boyfriend and, someday, he was going to be so much more. Tim might be _terrible_ at relationships, but he at least knew this much.

“Of course I love you.”

They both started. Then, in perfect unison, their heads snapped around. It would have been cute in any other situation.

“Timmy...” Present Colin said, his face going even paler than normal. “I—I didn't...”

Tim's heart raced. _He looks terrified._ “Do you...really not know that?”

He hated the way his voice cracked. Not because it made him sound young and vulnerable, but because of the way Colin's face crumpled when he heard it. The _last_ thing he wanted to do was make Colin feel worse. This was _Tim's_ fault, not his.

“No! I do! I—”

“Is it the sex thing?”

“ _Wh-what_?”

“Because if that's the only way you'll believe I love you we can have sex right now.”

“No!” Colin blushed. “I don't—that's not what I meant. I believe you!”

“Please don't lie,” Tim said quietly.

“I'm not!” Colin said, walking towards him. Tim barely noticed Future Colin slipping back into the shadows and leaving them alone. “It was a stupid thing to say! I know you love me. I _know_ that.”

“Do I not say it enough?” Tim asked, ignoring his words. He almost wished he'd kept his mouth shut when the tears finally started to pour down Colin's face.

“ _Yes_! You tell me all the time, and I love hearing it.”

“Then why...”

Colin wiped his eyes and swallowed heavily.

“Colin,” Tim begged. “Please tell me.”

Colin's head dropped. “How can you want me after seeing him?”

“ _What_?”

Colin flinched, and Tim felt like screaming.

“What are you talking about?”

Colin refused to meet his eyes.

“Please...”

“He's so much better for you!” Colin burst out. He looked surprised, but once he started talking it was like he couldn't stop himself. “He's taller and hotter and _older_ and if people saw you together they wouldn't think _he_ was your _little_ _brother_ and you wouldn't get weird looks when you kissed him and don't even try to pretend that doesn't bother you because I know _it does_ no matter how much you try to hide it from me and—” He broke off to take a huge breath. His eyes were wide and glistening, and he looked like he couldn't believe what he was saying; or maybe it was more than he couldn't believe he was actually saying it, instead of keeping it in. “I...I don't want you to think of me as second best.”

“You could _never_ be second best.” As true as Tim's words were, they were mostly an automatic response. The active part of his mind was too busy going over everything he'd ever said to Colin since the day they _met_. What had he _done_ to make Colin think this way? And how the heck hadn't he noticed it at the time? The idea that he could have been unconsciously making Colin question how much he cared about him made Tim feel sick.

“You can't mean that.”

Tim felt like he'd been slapped. No, worse than that. If Colin actually hit him right now he'd probably be grateful, because as least _he'd_ be the only one hurting. As much as it tore Tim apart to hear those words come from Colin, he knew they hurt to say—to _feel—_ even more.

“Do you really think I'm lying to you?”

_How can I ever ask you to marry me if you think I'm a liar?_

For the first time since it happened, he wished Future Colin had just shut up about their future. Now that he knew about it, now that he'd had days to process and fantasize and _picture it_ , it would hurt so much more if he managed to screw it all up.

Colin bit his lip. “I didn't mean it like that.”

A sudden spike of anger flared to life in Tim's chest, and he had to close his eyes to push it down. _He's barely sixteen. God, I hate thinking about his age but he's still a teenager. He doesn't have the control over his emotions that you do. Yelling at him for being frustrating and not telling you exactly what you did wrong so you can fix it is just going to make things worse._

Tim opened his eyes. Colin was looking at the floor again, and Tim ached to reach out for him. He would have, too, if he could be sure that wouldn't somehow make things worse.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked quietly. “You...you didn't seem like you had a problem with Future Colin before. Why are you so upset about him now?”

Colin swallowed heavily, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down in that slender throat Tim loved pressing his face into. He wish they could be doing that now, laying down wrapped in each other and halfway to sleep instead of having this conversation.

“I didn't think about it until now,” he answered, his voice small. “I thought it was fun to have Dami and me from the future, but when we were all laying down together...” He looked up at Tim and bit his lip so hard Tim had no idea how it didn't split. “I saw the way you looked at him. Like you usually look at me...like you love him.”

“Of _course_ I look at him like I look at you. You're both _Colin_.” Colin flinched, and this time Tim didn't hesitate to reach out for him. Because he knew what the problem was, but more importantly, he knew how to fix it. That Colin barely resisted when he pulled him into his arms just showed that he was right. “And,” he said softly, “you're right. I do love him. Because there's no way I could ever _not_ love any version of you. But you're _my_ Colin. And maybe future me would say different, but if I had to choose between you and him I'd pick you every time.”

Colin shuddered. “Really?”

Tim let out a deep breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

“There's not even a contest. You're the only Colin I want.”

Colin didn't say anything, just flung his arms around Tim's waist and squeezed desperately.

“I'm sorry,” Colin moaned, his lips lightly grazing Tim's neck. “I love you. I'm so sorry I—”

“It's okay,” Tim said. He took a deep breath, smelling the soft, Irish Spring-and-linen scent of Colin's skin. “I love you too.”

Colin held him tighter, which was all the permission Tim needed to _squeeze the life out of him_. They stayed that way for...Tim had no idea. A while, at least. He knew Future Colin and Damian were waiting for them. He knew if they didn't go to the foyer soon they'd disappear and Tim would never have a chance to say goodbye to his future husband. But as much as that thought hurt, and as much as he knew he'd regret it, he never even considered rushing Colin. Because Colin needed him. And Tim needed to do a lot better at being a boyfriend if he ever wanted to be a husband.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they made it to the foyer and walked over to Future Colin (Present Colin tensed up, but only for a moment, more like he was expecting to feel something—jealousy; resentment, maybe—that never showed up. Tim still worried, but the squeeze Present Colin gave his hand was nowhere near as reassuring as the bright, honest smile he gave Future Colin, who had the softest, most understanding look Tim had ever seen on his face) the goodbyes had already started. Dick, with Bruce on his shoulders again, had Future Damian locked tightly in a one armed hug (the other one was keeping Bruce from escaping) as Alfred watched on with a fond smile. Damian actually put up with it for an unheard of seven seconds before jabbing his fingers into Dick's solar plexus.

“Ow!” He rubbed his stomach. “You know you're just gonna get another one the second you get back, right?”

Future Damian smirked as Jason pulled him back into his arms and—oh god—Present Damian grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles.

 _This is so wrong_.

“I have full confidence that Jason will rescue me.”

“Damn right, babybat,” Jason said with a smirk of his own.

Dick stared at the three of them for a long moment, then shook his head. “I have no idea if this is adorable or disturbing.”

“Adorable,” Jason said.

“Disturbing,” Tim muttered. Both Colins nodded emphatically.

“Can I suggest another word?” Steph asked, leering.

“ _No_!” Tim, both Colins, and Bruce all said at once.

“You people are such prudes.”

“She should see future you,” Future Colin whispered in Tim's ear. Tim blushed furiously.

“What? What did you say to him?” Steph asked.

“Sorry eggplant, you already got your goodbye. I need to say bye to Timmy now.”

“Ugh. You're so rude.” Despite her words, she gave them both a soft little smile.

Tim was still relieved when Future Colin led the two of them off to the side.

“I know I technically don't need to ask if you guys are okay, but I'd still feel better if I did, so...are you guys okay?”

Present Colin let out a small laugh, and slid his hand into Tim's again. “Yeah. We're perfect.”

Tim squeezed his hand and smiled—at both of his Colins. “Definitely.”

_Or, we will be, at least. That you're still smiling back at me proves it._

Future Colin's answering smile slowly morphed into a wry smirk. “Is it weird that I'm gonna miss you? Even though you're me and I'm gonna be seeing my you in a few minutes?”

Tim felt a small pang at the “my you”, but he pushed it away. If that was even a small taste of how Future Colin had felt when he first got to the past and had to deal with Tim, he deserved it.

Surprisingly, it was Present Colin who answered.

“It's not weird at all. I'm...gonna miss you too—even if I'm not gonna miss the sock thing,” he added with a—very cute—glare.

Future Colin laughed.

“But,” he continued, “at least I'll get to see you again, when I look in the mirror in the future. And I still get to see my Timmy turn into your Timmy. So it's not that bad for me.” He bit his lip, looking a little distraught, now. “But...that doesn't help you at all, does it? Maybe I could think about you a lot, though? So when you think about us, you'll remember everything I thought about you? It could me like a...DM, or something. That only you can read. And...maybe tell Timmy about, too?”

Present Colin looked so adorably timid, like he expected Future Colin to laugh at him, and Tim couldn't help letting his hand go and wrapping his arm around his waist.

Just in time for Future Colin to pull both of them into a hug.

“Never change,” he whispered. Tim wasn't sure who he was talking to, but maybe it didn't matter. “Not too much, anyway.”

Present Colin sniffled. “I'll try.”

They stayed like that for almost a full minute. It was still so strange, holding his boyfriend and his future husband in his arms at the same time, but he couldn't help feeling anything but unfathomably lucky. He was holding concrete proof that the person he was with is the person he's always going to _be_ with; that his fears about screwing up and driving Colin away, or Colin realizing that he could do so much better than _Tim Drake_ , or any of the other hundred things he'd been so _scared_ of before this time thing happened were nothing to be afraid of at all, because they would never happen.

Tim hugged them both as tight as he could.

“I'm sorry I hurt you,” he whispered in Future Colin's ear. “I promise I'm gonna give you the biggest kiss ever when you get back.”

“You could give him one now, if you want.”

Both Tim and Future Colin jerked back in surprise.

“What?” Present Colin asked, his cheeks so red Tim was surprised he couldn't feel the heat. “It's not like...I mean, you're not doing what Jason and the Damis did. And you're me, so...” he shrugged. “You have just as much right to kiss Timmy as I do.”

Tim frowned. “But you were so worried—”

“I know,” Colin interrupted, “but you're right. I don't have anything to worry about. We're both the same, and we both love you, and you love both of us. Besides, I'm gonna get to kiss future you all the time. This is the last chance he's ever gonna get to kiss this you. If...if it was me, I'd want to take it. Because no matter how great future you is, _this_ you is the one that loved me first. And he'll always have a special place in my heart.”

Tim felt his eyes start to tear up. “Colin...”

“And,” Colin added with a cheer that was only partially forced, “it might be kinda sexy watching Timmy kiss from the outside, for once.”

Tim laughed and wiped his eyes. “Okay.” He turned to Future Colin, and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Future Colin nodded, his eyes never leaving Tim.

Tim took a breath. “Okay.”

Then he kissed Future Colin.

Tim hadn't given much thought to what it would be like to kiss his boyfriend's future self, but if he had, the word he probably would have come up with was _disturbing_ , or _weird_ or _badbadbadyouterriblecheatingahole_.

And he would have been wrong. Because kissing Future Colin was exactly like laying in bed with him and Present Colin.

It felt like coming home.

“See you soon,” Tim whispered, after breaking their kiss and resting his forehead against Future Colin's.

Future Colin's smile outshone the sun. “See you first.”

Then, because time travel is a dramatic hoe, Future Colin started to glow before slowly fading away before their very eyes.

“Goodbye,” Tim said softly to the newly empty space in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jason and both Damians embracing tightly and whispering furiously to each other. He didn't even try reading their lips. What they all had gone through during this time travel adventure was a million times more... _everything_ than anything Tim had, and they deserved their privacy. Instead, Tim pulled Colin into his arms and kissed him until another light shone through his closed eyelids and disappeared.

And just like that, the future was back where it belonged. A future where Tim and Colin were married; where Jason and Damian could have a real shot at growing old together, healthy and whole and just as disgustingly in love (and disgusting) as always; where every hope they had in the present was realized and—

A loud tearing sound, a crash, and a startled “woah!” from Steph broke through the sudden silence. Tim's head snapped around.

There, in the middle of the foyer of Wayne Manor, lay Dick Grayson on his stomach, surrounded by shredded baby clothes. On his shoulders sat a very grown, very naked, and _very_ unimpressed Bruce Wayne.

“H-hey Bruce,” Dick said, with a grin that only partially managed to look not-terrified.

Bruce got up, utterly unconcerned by his nudity. Tim quickly covered Colin's eyes, while Damian let out a horrified gag and ran upstairs, dragging a disturbingly reluctant Jason behind him. Steph's face erupted into a violent blush, and she stammered and scurried after them.

Bruce didn't seem to notice any of this. He just crouched by Dick's head and leaned in so close that their hair was almost touching. In the absolute stillness that followed, Tim had no trouble hearing what he said.

“ _Run_.”

Dick was up and out the door before the slight echo of Bruce's word had faded.

Bruce watched him go, and the moment the door shut his lips pulled into a small smirk. The unmistakable pressure of Bat-rage that had permeated the air seconds before popped like a bubble, and Bruce walked calmly over to Alfred, taking the robe the butler had produced from...somewhere and unhurriedly wrapping it around himself.

“Dinner at six?” he asked, as casually as if he'd just walked up from a normal afternoon in the Cave.

“Yes, sir,” Alfred said.

“Hmm.” Bruce nodded. “I don't think you need to set a place for Dick tonight.”

Alfred somehow managed to look amused and disapproving at the same time. “I should think not for the rest of the week, at least, Master Bruce.”

Bruce's smug expression could have put Damian to shame.

“I'll see you at six, then.”

“Yes, sir.”

He started to walk away, but stopped after three steps. “Oh, and Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“ _Burn the diapers_.”

Alfred nodded serenely. “As you wish.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is a pretty big deal to me, because it's the first time I've ever hit *two* writing goals I've set for myself at the same time; one, to get another chapter of this out before the end of the year, and two, to buckle down and finish it in the five days before Christmas. So, to the people who care, here's an early Christmas present: The End of The Time Shenanigans! We will now return you to your regularly scheduled trash heap. There should be two more chapters, one real one and that epilogue I talked about way back when 2016 was still killing people every other week. These will, of course, be posted next year--hopefully before the end of February. So yeah, sorry this took so long. Also, I'm gonna go through and edit some of these chapters, because they're a mess, and I have no idea if AO3 sends out update alerts for edits, so if any of you subscribers ("what's up gamers! Welcome to my Minecraft video. Like and subscribe, it really helps me out") get a bunch of emails I apologize in advance.
> 
> Also, that part about how the Batplane sounds is totally ripped from *that* scene in Voltron. Deal with it.


	25. The Lord of the Rings

Tim held the ostentatiously decorated cardboard cup under his nose and took a deep breath, his eyes closing as a wave of peace settled over him for the first time in weeks. If tranquility had a smell, he was sure it was almost exactly like pumpkin spice. He took a small sip, letting the hot liquid sit on his tongue for a moment—just long enough to start to burn, but not long enough to do any damage—then swallowed, barely holding back a moan at the sweet sweet taste of desperately needed caffeine.

It had been a month since time had gotten back to normal, three weeks since a mass breakout at Arkham had made Tim's full four hours of sleep a fond and distant memory, and five days since they finally rounded up the last of the escapees (The Joker, of course, though what he was going to do with all those stolen zoo animals not evenBatman could figure out) just in time for Damian and Colin's finals week to start, and, not so coincidentally, five days since Tim had, stupidly, decided being a good boyfriend meant _helping Colin study_ and there were reasons Tim was glad he was long done with high school and not all of them had to do with terrible, crippling social anxiety.

Hence the need for a trip to his special coffee heaven.

And it _was_ his, again, finally. For this one afternoon at least. No Jason, no Damian, and—and he was _such_ a terrible boyfriend for even thinking this but _he deserved one day where he could be a horrible person thank you—_ no Colin, either. Just Tim, his coffee, the sweet sounds of harried baristas, and a well worn copy of The Andalite Chronicles, which wasn't a kid's book, no matter what Jason said.

Which was a good thing, because if he saw _anybody_ he knew right now he would—

He stopped that thought and glanced up expectantly. Thinking something like that was basically daring the universe to send him at least two of his siblings, hopped up on sex pollen and just enough optimism to think they might actually make it away from Tim unscathed today. And yet...nothing. No Dick. No Jason. No _Damian_. Not even Kon, who sometimes liked tracking Tim down and pouting at him until he'd break and agree to _one_ game of Mario Party, which would always turn into at least seven and ruin their friendship for a month or so; or Bart, who just realized he'd been neglecting his friends for his new husband _again_ and had gone on a “hey, I was just in the neighborhood and pleasestilllikeme” kick lately. He tentatively pulled out his phone and turned it on, tensing as he waited for the texts and missed calls to start screaming at him in whatever obnoxious text tone Babs had hacked into it this week...but there was nothing. Not even so much as a single twitter alert.

Tim smiled as he turned his phone back off and slipped into his messenger bag.

_I am the best at quiet ti—_

“Yo, babybird!”

Jason grinned as he plopped down in the chair across from Tim.

Tim shrieked and threw his coffee in Jason's stupid face.

Or, he tried to. The tops in this place were apparently welded on, so all it did was slosh around a bit and start dribbling out the sip hole.

“Seriously?” Jason raised an eyebrow, staring at Tim, who just...stopped like that, with his arm still outstretched and a small puddle of pumpkin spiced heaven being drip fed to the middle of the table.

Apparently realizing he wasn't going to get an answer—as if Tim could do _words_ when his _life was ending all around him—_ Jason somewhat hesitantly reached out and twisted Tim's coffee around in his hands so the hole was facing upwards, then tilted the cup slightly so it wasn't dripping at all anymore. Once Tim registered what he was doing, he snatched his cup, and hands, back with a hiss.

_Mine!_

Jason gave him an odd look.

“You, uh. You okay?”

Tim gave the only answer he could.

“Hnnn _gh!_ ”

Jason sighed, then reached across the table and started tapping Tim _really_ hard on the forehead.

“Ow! What?” He slapped his hand away. “Stop it!”

“Your brain reset?”

“No!” Tim glared. Then he realized he'd been using words again, and slumped. “Yes...”

_No, wait, I'm allowed to be angry here._

He glared again. “What the hell are you doing here, Jason?”

Jason raised both eyebrows this time. “That was almost a swear, babybird. Is this a bad time?”

“ _Yes_!”

“Well, shit.”

“Yes. That. Now leave, before—”

“But I need your help!”

Tim honestly, truly, meant to say that he didn't care. That, at this moment in time, as far as Jason was concerned, Tim was God and _God helps those that help themselves_. He meant to put the fear of God Tim into Jason and send him running off into the surprisingly temperate weather to _deal with his own crap_.

But.

Tim had never really heard Jason ask for help with that kind of desperate edge to his voice. Heck, he'd never heard Jason _ask_ for help at all. Usually, if he needs it, he just shows up and demands it, then bitches about how he doesn't need it until whatever problem he has is solved before disappearing for a week or two.

(Tim had no idea why he ever thought Jason and Damian weren't _perfect_ for each other.)

So, instead of all that, Tim sort of just sank down in his chair like a deflated balloon and downed half his coffee in three gulps.

“Why?” he asked, wishing he could say the words forced themselves out of his lips but, no, this was all on Tim, now.

Jason eyed him suspiciously. “You're calm now.”

Tim nodded slowly, even though it didn't seem like he was expecting an answer.

“You just deepthroated like a gallon of coffee and you're _calm_.”

Tim made a face. “Don't be gross. But yes. What does that have to do with why you're ruining my day off?”

“...you're not gonna kill me, are you?”

Jason seemed...honestly worried. Which was weird and almost concerning, but since Tim was Tim all he said was, “Don't be ridiculous, no one's ever found enough evidence to connect me to a murder investigation.”

Jason stared at him. “Have you been hanging out with Damian?”

“No?” Tim took another sip. “Are you gonna get to the point anytime soon? Because once I finish this I'm gone and when I hide, no one finds me unless _I_ want them to.” He leaned closer. “Spoilers; _I don't want you to_.”

“I literally just found you when you didn't want to be found.”

“Shut up,” Tim said, hiding behind his coffee cup.

“Whatever.” Jason took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Tim rolled his eyes when all he did was fall silent again. “If you don't tell me what you want I can't reject you.”

“Fuck, you're such an asshole.” Jason glared. Tim opened his mouth, but before he could say that, if he's such an asshole, Jason obviously shouldn't be asking for his help, when Jason said, really fast, “I want to ask Damian to marry me.”

Tim stopped. Again.

“Pardon?”

Jason huffed. “I'm proposing to Damian. And I need your help.”

Tim blinked. “Did you...want me to talk you out of it?”

Jason threw a sugar packet at Tim's head. “Fucking really?”

“Sorry,” Tim said, wary of a follow up condiment assault. “Habit.”

And then what Jason said fully penetrated the many layers of sleep deprivation and mild disassociation and _oh yeah, words go together to form sentences that mean things_. Tim's coffee slid through his suddenly limp fingers, and he watched in a kind of detached, slow motion horror as it fell towards the table...

And landed upright, like a perfect water bottle challenge. For a long moment, Tim totally understood why so many cultures put stock in omens and superstition.

_Too bad I have no idea how to interpret this. I wonder if Gotham U offers an augury course?_

He shook his head, and just like that snapped back into his usual calmly logical, utterly unflappable self.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he hissed. “ _Jason_! Why are you telling me this? Oh my god Jason, _why are you telling me this_?”

“Can you maybe not freak out, please?”

“ _No_!” Tim hunched down as more than a few people around the coffee shop started giving him odd looks. “You need me to hack into something and change Damian's legal age, don't you?”

“What? No—”

“ _Yes you do!_ He's underage. You can't marry a _minor_ Jason!” Oh yeah, definitely getting some looks now. “It's _illegal_.”

“Jesus fuck replacement keep your fucking voice _down_.” Jason growled quietly. “And it's not illegal as long as I have his parent's permission.”

Tim stared at him in what he very quickly determined to be absolute _awe_.

“You got _Bruce_ to sign off on this?”

Jason smirked. “Fuck no. But Talia owed me a favor.”

Tim was impressed for exactly 2.5 seconds before a wave of horror came over him.

“If you told Talia that means _Ra's_ knows!” Tim froze. “Oh god, _that's_ what you need me for, isn't it? You want me to distract him.” He shook his head. “No way. Absolutely not. I don't even _have_ that dress anymore and if you think I'm gonna let that pervert follow me around until you get _married—_ ”

“Jesus Christ, Tim, _shut the fuck up_.”

As it always did, hearing his actual name coming out of Jason or Damian's mouths stunned him into silence.

“I'm not whoring you out to Ra's. Thanks for assuming that by the way, great fucking opinion you have of me.” Jason shifted, looking angry and awkward and sheepish all at once. “All I want is help picking out the fucking ring, okay?”

Tim blinked. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Whatever.” Jason sat back and did that thing where he very badly pretended he hadn't just had his feelings hurt. Tim felt like a huge pile of _idiot_. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Tim could actually _see_ his peaceful day running off into the sunset without him. But... He sighed silently. There would be other peaceful days, probably. Jason asking him for help with something important wouldn't come around nearly as much.

(Jason asking for help and Tim jumping to the wrong conclusions and making things a hundred times harder and more insulting than they had to be, however, would probably come around a _lot_. So it was a good idea to get some practice in.)

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

Besides, he thought as he drained the last of his coffee, how hard could going ring shopping with Jason actually be?

 

* * *

 

 

“We're not going in there replacement. It's a Zales, fuck that.”

“What's wrong with Zales?”

“It's a _chain store_. Buying an engagement ring from a chain is like getting Valentine's Day flowers from the grocery store.”

“....”

“Jesus fuck, Tim.”

“What?”

“You're so lucky you're dating an orphan, that's all I'm saying.”

“Hey! There's nothing wrong with grocery store flowers. No one notices those things. And no one would notice if you got an engagement ring at Zales.”

“Damian would.”

“...Okay. No Zales.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Babybird. This is a Jared.”

“I know!”

“We already went through this with Zales.”

“I know, okay? It's not like I have any idea where jewelery stores are off the top of my head, I'm just going down the list I made off Google maps.”

“You made a list?”

“Yes. And the only set of directions I have goes from store to store, so we have to go to the next store on the list to find the way to the store after that.”

“...why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because I designed an algorithm that would map out the most efficient way to visit multiple shopping destinations in the minimum amount of time. It searches through store times, average foot traffic for the time of day, average road congestion for the time of day, weather; it even reads Yelp reviews that mention how quickly the clerks—”

“You are such a fucking nerd.”

“...and?”

“Nothing. What's next on The List?”

“It's...did you just capitalize that?”

“You mean you _didn't_?”

 

* * *

 

 

“The Gotham Diamond Exchange?”

“Yes. I wasn't originally going to put it on the list—”

“Capitalize that shit.”

“ _I wasn't originally going to put it on,_ because they tend to deal more in raw diamonds than shaped ones in jewlery, but you could find one you like and we could go to another store to get it set and cut.”

“Huh. That's...surprisingly thoughtful.”

“I thought so too—hey! Why is me being thoughtful surprising?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes!”

“You bought Bruce a can of WD-40 for Christmas last year.”

“The door to the Cave was sticking! It was a _practical gift_. And we said we were going to keep our gifts under thirty dollars because _some people_ keep using Christmas as an excuse to show up everyone else.”

“Don't glare at me, I'm not the one who let Steph and Damian have credit cards.”

“Hmph. Anyway, Bruce appreciated his gift.”

“Because Bruce has the emotional range of a can of oil. He got me _helmet polish_. Fucker wouldn't know a good gift if it lost its parents and became the new Robin...what's that smug look for?”

“Bruce got me an _amazing_ gift last year.”

“...what was it?”

“Two words Jason: thermal, leggings.”

“...I hate this family.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Okay. So. Maybe the Gotham Diamond Exchange wasn't the best idea.”

“You think?”

“In my defense, I had no idea The Penguin's gang was going to try and rob it today.”

“Really? Youdidn't have _any idea_? _You_ didn't have any idea? ”

“...okay maybe it was a _possibility_ but I swear I thought we'd be spending a lot more time in Zales and Jared. It was supposed to be a mid day pick me up. You know? Foil the robbery after a stressful afternoon of not finding the perfect ring, then bam! Inspiration strikes after saving the day.”

“...”

“Don't look at me like that. There are entire _genres_ of fiction that told me it would work.”

“We got taken hostage.”

“Yes. I'm aware. But like I said we weren't supposed to get there that early and—”

“For _three hours_.”

“I'm aware of that too, yes.”

“I recognized some of those guys, Tim. I used to _work with them_. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to be taken hostage by guys who used to take orders from you?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“I run a corporation in Gotham City, Jason. Of course I've been taken hostage by my employees.”

“...point. So what's next on The List?”

 

* * *

 

 

To be honest, Tim only put Kent's Jewelers on the list because of the name. It was a sign. Of what, he wasn't sure, but he'd expected to find something _way_ sooner because who the _heck_ thought Jason would be this anal about picking out an engagement ring? Not Tim, that's for sure. And since this was the first non-chain store on his list, and thus the first store they _actually_ got to look around in before either dismissing it out of hand or getting rounded up at gunpoint, he didn't exactly have high hopes of them finding anything.

“Hey there y'all, welcome to Kent's. You guys need any help or are ya just lookin' around?” asked the clerk, a shockingly blonde woman in her early thirties wearing a neat pantsuit and a smile that was surprisingly tame for all the twang in her voice. For a second, Tim thought he'd actually gotten them transported to Smallville.

“Maybe a little bit of both?” Jason answered, smiling his most charming smile. The clerk grinned back, and, no matter how many times he'd seen it, Tim still had to marvel at how someone as big and rough looking as Jason Todd could always make himself seem so boyish and nonthreatening to any woman he met. It had to be some kind of latent superpower. Maybe Tim could sneak a blood sample while Jason was distracted with the rings and do a test later? He was sure he had something in one of these pockets that could break skin...

“Well, my name's Jenny. Why don't you two take a look around and give me a holler when it's time for me to do my bit, okay?”

“Sounds great Jenny.” Jason grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. “Come on, babybird.”

Tim shook himself out of his thoughts. He had just enough time to catch the schmoopy smile Jenny was giving them before Jason spun him around to face the nearest ring display.

“What do you think?”

“I think I'd rather be in Zales.”

“About the _rings_ ,” Jason said, wrapping his arm around Tim's waist and digging his fingers into a particularly sensitive nerve cluster.

Tim squirmed, but managed to keep from crying out. The last thing they needed was to get thrown out of the only store they'd actually been able to shop at.

“I like that one.”

Jason sighed. “You're not even pointing to anything.”

“Look,” Tim said quietly, side-eyeing Jenny who was hovering a bit too close for Tim's paranoia to handle, “I have no idea what Damian would like. I have no idea what you would like. If you want my help, you need to narrow the choices down a bit from _the whole store_ to maybe two or three, okay?”

“You suck.”

“Which one of us is the virgin again?”

“Babybird!” Jason gasped. “Did you just make a _lewd joke_?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Why is everyone always so surprised when I adult?”

“It's these baby soft cheeks,” Jason said, giving them a pinch. Tim slapped his hands away and scowled. “They make you look so sweet and innocent.”

“I haven't showered in three days. The last thing I am is _sweet_.”

“Y'all are the absolute _cutest_ couple I've ever seen,” Jenny said with a huge smile and suspiciously misty eyes. Jason's face started doing that thing it does when he's trying to hide a devious smirk, and Tim started shaking his head rapidly.

“Oh, no. Nononono. We're not the couple. God no. Ew.” Tim shuddered. “He's marrying our younger brother.”

Jenny blinked.

“Don't mind him,” Jason said, his voice lilting up just enough for Tim to know he was about to say something that would entertain him at someone elses expense. Tim didn't know which was worse, that Jason actually _had_ a specific tone of voice for that, or that Tim had heard it enough to recognize it after just three syllables. “He's still a little nervous about the wedding and he gets really shy when anyone mentions it. I should probably work on that, but...” He leaned in towards her and stage-whispered, “He's so adorable when he blushes, you know?”

Tim, predictably, blushed like a virgin on his wedding night. Then he blushed even harder when he realized what simile he'd used.

_Even my internal monologue is out to get me._

Jenny giggled and shared a tiny grin with Jason. “Oh he is just the _sweetest_ thing. Look at them red little cheeks! You are a lucky man Mr...”

 _Kill me now_.

“Anyone who compliments my babybird gets to call me Jason,” he said, beaming at her.

Jenny's eyes actually started to _sparkle_. “Babybird! Ain't that just the most adorable nickname ever!”

“Our other brother gave it to me,” Tim mumbled as he traded discreet nerve strikes with the hand Jason had on his hip.

“We fostered with the same family when we were kids,” Jason said before Jenny could do more than start to look confused.

“Oh!” She looked shocked for a few seconds, and Tim was sure they were about to be thrown out for being incestuous perverts (which would be a first for any member of their family, surprisingly enough). But of course, just when Tim was starting to get excited about getting to experience new things, he look of shock turned into another grin. “So were y'all childhood sweeties then?”

Jason laughed. “Oh, I think it's safe to say Timmy here had a thing for me from the first time he saw me.”

Tim blushed even _more_ because, well, _yes_ that was technically true, even though Jason was leaving out the cameras and the stalking and the scaly green panties.

While Tim was running the math on the probability of a hole opening up under him and swallowing him—he's been in about fifty four thousand, two hundred and ten utterly humiliating, mortifying experiences in his life with nary a hole to be found. Statistically, he was due—Jason and Jenny gushed over him and his fake relationship with his soon-to-be-dead brother for about another five minutes before Jason _picked out a ring_ like it was nothing.

“Don't y'all need two?”

“Nah, babybird wants to pick mine out on his own. The proposal was kind of spur-of-the-moment, and he feels bad about not getting a ring first.”

“Aww, just couldn't wait any longer, huh?”

Tim snarled. “I can't wait to kil—”

“We can kiss when we get home, babe.” Jason smiled at Jenny again. “Could you ring that up?”

“Sure thing, hon!”

The moment she turned her back Tim twisted Jason's arm and slipped away from him. “You _jackass_!” he whisper-yelled. “You didn't even need me to pick out a ring!”

“I guess not.” He held up his hands and took a step back, most likely correctly reading the _impending murder_ in Tim's eyes. “In my defense, I totally thought I would. I was drawing a complete blank. And hey, I never would have come here on my own, so, thanks!”

“...I am going to kill you.” Jason opened his mouth and Tim cut him off. “And that's not a figure of speech. I am going to _literally end your life_.”

Jason, once again showing off his remarkable lack of self-preservation skills, scoffed. “You don't even like to kill spiders.”

“Because I'm scared of them.” Tim narrowed his eyes when it looked like Jason was going to say something rude. “And I'm _not_ scared of _you_.”

“You still won't kill me.”

“I don't need to,” Tim said. “I'll just take a picture of us kissing and show Damian. Then _he'll_ kill you.”

“You're gonna kiss me?”

“Yes.” Tim nodded.

Jason smirked. “Okay babybird, lay one on me.” He leaned in a pursed his lips.

“Ew!” Tim shoved his face away. “Get your gross lips away from me!”

Jason smirked and went to pay. Tim sulked the whole way home.

 

* * *

 

 

Libraries. Tim liked Libraries.

Well, actually.

So, it's weird, because Tim actually kind of disliked libraries. He got them, and he appreciated the service they provided the community, but...well. He had complaints. First, and most important, was the selection. Sure, there was a lot of _variety_ , but at the same time not really? Like would it kill them to have a little less Nancy Drew and Song of Ice and Fire and a little more Captive Prince? Second, and almost as important, was the terrible wi-fi. It was like libraries knew there was an entire world out there of talented self-published authors and fanfiction and communities that discussed all of those things and didn't want to get shown up. So, they had internet that made DSL look like The Flash and a content filter that could keep _Oracle_ from accessing anything but the Disney homepage. Third, of course, was the _stupid_ no food rule, which was bad enough on its own but got downright draconian when he realized _coffee_ was included in the food ban. It was...there weren't words. Society had come so far since the days of lynchings and witch burnings and yet, relics of those dark days still survived to be discovered by the desperate and unwary.

Which was Tim in a nutshell. The desperate part, at least. Because while libraries had terrible internet and a limited selection and they wouldn't let people gorge themselves on sweet, life giving caffeine and pastries, there was one other very important thing that they lacked.

The presence of _Jason Todd_.

Or at least, _this_ library did anyway, since libraries were kind of Jason's thing, but for some reason none of Tim's surveillance ( _it's not stalking when Bruce encourages it Steph_ ) ever showed him going within ten feet of it. Tim suspected there was a backstory there, but he couldn't summon up the will to even pretend he cared.

Instead, he took a deep breath, holding in the Jason free air and savoring it before letting it out with a loud “ahhhh” that got him a nasty look from the librarian. Tim didn't care. She'd been scrunching her nose at him ever since he pulled out his phone and started reading the stuff he had downloaded on it, like it was somehow his fault they had nothing that interested him. Plus, this was his haven. His new home away from stress and Bruce and siblings and it was nearly perfect. (Nearly because he kind of desperately needed a coffee, but even though it had been two days since Jason kidnapped him to go ring shopping and he hadn't seen any of his brothers since, he just knew if he walked across the street to get coffee he'd run into someone else. Tim wasn't psychic, except when he was.)

Yep. Tim's life was pretty great right about now.

“Drake.”

“Ahhh!”

“ _Shh!!_ ”

Tim clutched his heart, _stared_ at Damian (where the _heck_ did he come from?) and _glared_ at the librarian all at the same time.

“You scream like a newborn female.”

“You lurk like a stalker!”

“You would know, Drake.”

Tim clenched his hands together to keep from either strangling Damian or yanking his own hair out. “What are you doing here?”

Damian shifted in place. Dread started to build deep inside of Tim in the darkest corners of his heart in the place reserved solely for when the universe is about to be torn to shreds by the actions of one of his brothers.

“Damian,” he said slowly, “what did you do?”

“I didn't do anything!”

Like Tim was going to believe _that_.

“Did you hurt someone? Did you,” he lowered his voice, “did you kill anyone?” A thought occurred to him. “Was it Jason?”

Damian looked like he was three seconds away from murdering _Tim_. “Of course not! Why would I kill Jason!?”

“That's it!” the librarian shouted, startling them both. “Both of you, out. _Now!_ ”

Tim blinked. “You're being way louder then we are.”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, Drake is correct.” Damian turned his glare on her. “It's very distracting. Can you keep the noise down, please?”

Okay, sometimes Tim almost loved his brother.

Even if he did get them kicked out of the library.

Tim looked up at the sky, trying to judge the time by the position of the sun and accidentally staring directly into it. While he waited for the spots in front of his eyes to clear, he (presumably) turned back to Damian.

“So, what _did_ you want, anyway?”

“I want you to tell me why you thought I killed Jason,” Damian demanded, crossing his arms.

Tim sighed. _So that one actually bothered him._ “I don't.”

Damian eyed him suspiciously. “Then why did you—”

“Because I'm tired and exhausted and fatigued and sleepy and—”

“Those are all just words that mean tired.”

“— _and you're not helping_.”

Damian studied him for a long moment. “Fine. I forgive you.”

“I didn't _ask_ for—”

“Now I need your help.”

There were many, many responses Tim could give to this, but honestly, he was so beyond done even trying to pretend he could salvage his ~~life~~ day that he just decided to give in to the inevitable. “What do you need?”

Damian went back to looking nervous. “I need...” Tim raised an eyebrow. Damian huffed. “I need help picking out an engagement ring.”

Tim blinked. “Um.” _Was the one Jason got no good or...?_

“It needs to be perfect,” Damian went on, his voice picking up anxious speed as he spoke. “Not feminine, but thin enough to be worn under tactical gloves, and obviously expensive, but not ostentatious. It needs to look like I picked it out on my own with absolutely no help from anyone else, and I want the band big enough for an inscription so Jason will read it and know how much I care for him and—” Damian's voice hitched. “And so he won't say no,” he finished quietly.

“So...” Tim said slowly, once he'd processed. “ _You're_ going to propose to Jason?”

After a short, uncharacteristic hesitation, Damian nodded. “Yes.”

Tim blinked again, then gave the only response he could and _died laughing_.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh don't even start, I'll help, and we both know you aren't actually going to kill me.”

“You have no idea what I'm capable...did you say you would help?”

“Yes. For all my sins, yes.”

“...how?”

“I have a list.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hi! Welcome to Zales! Can I help you guys find anything today?”

“We are leaving, Drake. This was a terrible idea.”

“Why? And don't glare at me, you're the one who wanted to come in here.”

“She is too chipper. I know her type and I refuse to be fawned over just because I'm getting married.”

“Oh! You two are getting married? And you're picking out rings together? How sweet! How long have you guys been together? High school sweeties I bet. I—”

“You were right. Abort. Abort! Out the door Damian, retreat pattern delta, _go_!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Welcome to Jared, my name's Steve. If you need anything just let me know okay?”

“We do not need your help. Come Drake, let's go.”

“...we're leaving already?”

“Yes.”

“He wasn't chipper at all though. And, more importantly, he didn't think _we_ were...God I can't even finish that sentence without wanting to cry.”

“Since I feel the same way, I will be magnanimous and not take offense to you insinuating that you would be anything but _lucky_ to have my hand in marriage, and instead answer your question. He is a man.”

“...and?”

“I do not want a _man_ to help pick out my engagement ring. He would be bad at it.”

“Why?”

“Because he is a _man_.”

“Wow, Dami. Sexist much?”

“-tt-”

“I'm a man too you know.”

“Ha!”

“...I could still leave. I have a million better things to do than follow you around and listen to you insult me.”

“Like what?”

“Like...”

“ _Exactly_.”

“ _Fine._ Where to next, since you don't seem to care at all about my List.”

“...did you just capitalize—”

“No I didn't just answer the question!”

“...let's go to Kay's. Why do you look so surprised?”

“No, nothing. It's just...you keep picking out chain stores.”

“And?”

“Well...doesn't that bother you? Like, isn't buying a diamond ring from a chain kind of like buying Valentine's Day flowers from a grocery store?”

“Of course not. Flowers are flowers no matter where they are from, and diamonds are diamonds. A single dandelion picked from the side of the road could be worth more than a hundred bouquets of Juliet Roses if it's given in love. I'm surprised at you, Drake. I didn't think you were so shallow. I might need to warn Colin away from you, if you don't change your attitude.”

“...this is some kind of prank show, isn't it. Any second now a D-list celebrity is going to jump out from the bushes with a camera crew and tell me this is all a huge joke, right?”

“What are you blathering about, Drake? You _are_ a D-list celebrity. Now enough of your nattering; to Kay's!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Well. This is kind of ironic.”

“Unacceptable!”

“What? My misuse of the word 'ironic', or the fact that Kay's is closed because the staff are at the owner's wedding?”

“The closed store of course! You butcher the English language every day, Drake. Even Jason has a better grasp of the fundamentals of your confusing language which, considering the vast differences in your upbringing and schooling, is pathetic.”

“Yeah, well, unlike Jason I actually got a _useful_ degree—”

“You _hacked_ your school records to get an MBA.”

“Because I was busy fighting crime! And I'm still the CEO of a multibillion dollar company.”

“That my father gave to you because he had more important work to accomplish.”

“You know what? I'm glad this store is closed. I bet the perfect ring was in there and there's no place else you can find it.”

“Don't say that!”

“Oh yeah, I bet there's only one ring...crap I can't resist, _to rule them—_

“Stop! Forget it. I have a much better idea. Your list is useless, so I'm picking the next place we go.”

“This should be good.”

 

* * *

 

 

“In my defense, Drake, I had no idea the Diamond Exchange was going to be—”

“I _told you it was_. I told you it was and you _didn't listen to me!_ ”

 

* * *

 

 

“Let's go here.”

Tim blanched. “No.”

“Why not? Is it the name?”

“Yes!”

“I understand,” Damian said solemnly. “Normally I, too, would avoid anything that reminds me of aliens and halfbreeds, but today I think this is a sign. We've had no luck with planning and logic thus far, so I'm willing to give superstition a try.”

“Damian, don't—”

But it was too late, Damian had already gone inside Kent's Jewelers. Tim slumped, resigned himself to his fate, and followed. Honestly, what were the odds that—

“Hey, welcome to Kent's y'all.” _SON OF A—_ “I'm Jenny and I'll...oh, you're—”

_Oh no, she's going to mention me and Jason being here and buying an engagement ring...for me..._

“No!” Tim blurted. _Way to go, now you seem even more suspicious._ “I mean, I get that all the time, but I, uh, I'm not...” _Oh god, what celebrity do I look like? Besides Bruce Wayne. Or Dick Grayson. Or Tim Drake..._ “Lance...Bass?” Tim didn't even try holding back the wince. “I just...look like him.”

“Drake? What are you talking about? You look nothing like—”

“ _And_ this is my brother, Damian, who's here to pick out a ring for his fiance.”

“Oh?” Jenny frowned. Tim gave her his best “please just go with this” puppy dog eyes. “Uh, okay.” She paused, and just when Tim thought he was home free, said, Y'alls family's about to have a busy year, isn't it?”

Tim slumped. Damian scoffed.

“You do know he's not _really_ Lance Bass, right? -tt- If you can't even tell that then I'm not sure I want you helping me find a ring for my beloved.”

“Awwww! Your beloved? Well ain't that just the most romantic thing I've ever heard.”

Tim could actually _see_ Damian's ego inflating right in front of him. _So much for hating chipper people._

“Trust me sweetie, there ain't nobody better to help you pick out an engagement ring than me, and there ain't no better shop in the whole city to find one either. Engagement rings are what Kent's is known for, ya know.”

“Hmph.” Damian crossed his arms and tried to look unimpressed, but Tim wasn't fooled. She had him hook, line and sinker the moment she called 'beloved' romantic. “Very well.”

To Tim's disgust, Jenny looked utterly charmed with his _Damianness_.

“Well, let's get to it then! I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that 'money's no object'?” she asked with the air of someone quoting someone else and she gave Tim a small, knowing smirk.

_...please tell me Jason didn't actually say that._

“Of course not.”

Jenny grinned. “Great! Then let's start over here.”

Tim wasn't even surprised when they had a ring picked out and bought in less than thirty minutes.

 

* * *

 

 

“That woman was surprisingly helpful.”

“Uh huh.”

“Unlike you, Drake.”

“Uh huh.”

“Though...I suppose I still appreciate the effort. ...thank you Drake.”

“Oh. Um. You're...welcome?”

“...don't let it go to your head.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Three days later they were both wearing the rings Tim spent hours of his life not even _remotely_ helping them pick out. He was more than a little mad he didn't even get to see the proposal, but, in the end, that was okay.

“ _Yo, babybird...uh...”_

“ _Drake...I can't believe these words are about to pass my lips, but...”_

Especially when they both asked him to be their best man.

“ _Why are we in the Cave?”_

“ _Yes Drake, and why are we dressed for a workout? You said you were going to give me an answer.”_

“ _Yeah, you said the same thing to me...”_

_Tim grinned. “Fight for it.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, "next year" still hasn't ended yet.


	26. Epilogue: After the Longest Engagement Ever, All's Well That Ends Well (Again)

“People always ask how Colin and I got together. The ones who don't know me can't imagine how Tim _Wayne_ ever even met a scruffy orphan boy, let alone how he fell in love with him. The ones who do know me, the people I'm lucky enough to be able to call my friends, ask because they know exactly how amazing it is that I've finally found someone who makes me whole. And when they ask, if I have the time, I invite them to sit down, and maybe get a cup of coffee. Because the story of how me and Colin got together isn't just the story of Colin and Tim. In a lot of ways, it's also the story of Jason and Damian.

“When I first found out about Jason and Damian, I didn't exactly handle it well. Something I'm pretty sure Steph and Kon would _love_ to talk about sometime. And it wasn't just because Damian was underage, or because they were my brothers. Although that was definitely a part of it. It was because I couldn't see any _possible_ way _anything_ good could come out of the two of them being involved with each other. To me, the entire thing had disaster written all over it with a capital—little—D. I thought they would be the _worst_ kind of influence on each other.

“But they weren't. In fact, once I really _saw_ them together, when I finally let myself _look_ beyond the squick factor, it was the exact opposite. Because they didn't hold each other back from crossing the line, and they didn't keep each other in check the way so many people thought over the years. What they did was something much more special. They _changed_ each other. More than that, they made each other _want_ to change. So much so that none of the newer Titans, the ones who didn't know Jason and Damian _before_ they were _Jason and Damian_ , believe me when I tell stories about those first few years after Damian found us, and after Jason came back to us. How could they ever have been angry, they say, when they're too busy making us all throw up with how sickeningly in love they are?

“ _If only they knew_.”

A soft ripple of laughter echoed throughout the room.

“But it wasn't just Jason and Damian who were changed by their relationship. Because until they got together, Colin was just my little brother's adorable little friend. I never would have actually sat down and _talked to him_ if Jason and Damian hadn't decided to go on a date to my favorite secret coffee shop. I never would have known that the boy who sometimes trailed through the manor after Damian had grown into the person I'd love more than anything in the world, more than the original Star Wars trilogy _,_ more than being _Red Robin._ And I wasn't the only one effected by their relationship in such an important, fundamental way. Because if Jason and Damian never got together, then Dick and Roy never would have realized that their friendship had turned into something more, and if Dick and Roy never got together, then Dick wouldn't have been home to save Lian's life that night, and if Lian had died, the entire _multi-verse_ would have been destroyed last year. So, in a very real way, Jason and Damian being together is the most important thing to have happened in the entirety of time and space.

“I remember when I first found out they were together, I asked Dick how something like that could even be possible. He said it had to be magic. Of course, it turned out he thought I was asking a totally different question, but maybe he was closer to the truth than either of us knew. Because it might not have been magic, not the Zatanna or Klarion kind at least, but their relationship is more than enough to get even me to believe in fate.”

Tim smiled. “But even more important than any of that, is now every day I get to see my brothers, _all_ my brothers, happier than they've ever been. Somehow, Jason and Damian being together has managed to lift the gloom from Wayne Manor. And that, even more than _saving the entirety of reality_ , is a real miracle.”

More laughter, and Tim took a moment to look out over the crowded reception hall.

At Dick and Roy, smiling through their tears as they both clung to an impressively tolerant Lian. At Bruce, whose stone-faced stillness couldn't quite hide the small trembling of his lips. At Alfred, who had never looked more _proud_ of all of his boys. At Steph and Cass, and Kon and Cassie. At Bart and Jamie, and Rose and her father.

At Colin, who was always so beautiful to Tim, even with the splotchy face, and the puffy eyes and red, runny nose, and those big, gasping sobs.

At Jason, who didn't even bother to hide his tears, or the utterly infatuated look on his face when he glanced at Damian.

At Damian, who scoffed and muttered something under his breath, before turning away to wipe suspiciously at his eyes.

At his family.

Tim swallowed heavily as he picked up his glass, refusing to lose it until he was finished. He kept himself together by imagining the reaction of that Tim of years past, if he could just _see himself now_. He raised his champagne, and dozens upon dozens of superheroes, vigilantes, and assorted family did the same.

“It is my honor and privilege to present to you all, the Todd-Waynes.”

(And if Tim swallowed his champagne a little too heavily, and if his heart was racing just a little too fast, and if one of his hands disappeared into his pocket to make sure the ring he was going to give Colin after they got home was still there...well. At least everyone else was too distracted to notice.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go. DONE. Ish. I do have a few more ideas for this universe, most involving Ra's finding out about Damian and Jason's engagement and everything that follows (which is a really dramatic way of saying "Ra's and Tim being bros and hazing the shit out of Jason so he can prove himself worthy of Damian") but I dunno if I'll ever write them, because I've honestly lost most of my inspiration for this stuff. If I do add anything though, I'll add them as a chapter before the epilogue, thus screwing up the chapter order. Fun times. Thanks to everyone who left kudos or, even better, reviews, because I did have a lot of fun writing this and it's nice to get immediate feedback on my writing instead of desperately refreshing an amazon page and hoping someone left a review on one of my books. Fanfic readers>>>amazon readers.
> 
> If anyone's interested, here's my notes for the possibly-going-on-probably-never-gonna-happen Ra's chapter:
> 
> "The last person to approach Tim is Ra's, who makes comments about seeing if his grandson's intended is worthy of an al Guhl, (some reference to Jason's time with Talia), and then compliments Tim on his choice in rings. He says knowing Tim's style will be very useful in the future. Colin overhears, maybe, and stakes his claim. Tim is worried that Ra's will kill him, but he doesn't. Either right then, or later, Ra's makes it known that he's charmed by Tim's Colin, and will accept both of them. Possibly by sending information about which countries allow bigamy. Tim is very disturbed. OR have it be the next chapter, and it's during the engagement party and Ra's does some of the above, then devises a series of tests to make sure Jason and Damian love each other, Tim is strangely intrigued by the idea of making them sweat, and he and Ra's act like bros while testing them together, maybe with Colin documenting it for the Marriage Week on his blog, very cracky"


End file.
